No Longer Pretending
by hellogoodbye57
Summary: Booth gets invited to his high school reunion, but he has a little problem which requires Brennan's help. BxB. Pretty much all fluff. Fairly strong T.
1. Chapter 1

Set sometime between season 3 and 4

Temperance Brennan stepped off of the elevator into the busy hallway of the Hoover Building, sidestepping the agents who moved around her. She walked purposefully to an office at the end of the hallway, pushing open the mostly-closed door without bothering to knock. A man looked up from his desk, startled. He wore a dark suit which, though obviously not of the highest quality, still hugged his well-muscled form well. His short, dark hair had obviously started the day combed neatly, but it had been pushed out to odd angles, likely as he ran his large, calloused hands through it in frustration. His features were symmetrical, his eyes dark, his lips full. He had slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and a dark shadow of stubble covered his chin. "Geez, Bones, way to scare a guy half to death."

"You know, there has never been a documented case of anyone who was actually scared to death," Brennan remarked.

"Any reason you came?" the man questioned, shifting some papers on his desk.

"We got an ID," Brennan said, placing a file folder on his desk. He picked it up, looking at her curiously.

"Already? You only got the body an hour ago."

"There was a knee replacement, Booth. We traced the serial number."

"Okay. I guess we should. . . go talk to the family then." He stood up, tightening his tie and pulling his jacket more evenly onto his shoulders. As he straightened his clothing, his eyes never met Brennan's, and she watched him curiously.

"You're distracted," she observed after a couple seconds. He stopped fidgeting with his clothes for a moment and looked at her.

"What makes you say that?" he questioned after a few seconds of silence.

"Your speech is choppy, and you won't look at me."

"You know Bones, that sure sounds like psychology to me. I thought psychology was a soft science," Booth remarked somewhat irritably.

"It is a soft science. But I'm not using psychology. I'm just saying that your current behavior shows all the classic signs of distraction."

Booth sighed and looked at his partner. She stood at 5'8", tall for a woman but still a few inches shorter than him. She was beautiful (though he would never admit this to her) with smooth facial features, sleek brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. But looks could be deceiving; she had a slim, powerful frame, and he had seen her take down guys who were twice her size without batting an eye. "Okay, Bones, I'm distracted."

"Why?"

"It doesn't really matter."

"Aren't you the one who told me that partners were supposed to share things with each other?" she questioned.

He sighed. Sometimes, he wished he had never said that; she always seemed to use the statement against him. "Fine, Bones, here." He picked up an envelope from his desk and tossed it at her. She caught it against her chest, glancing at the return address on the front. The name was unfamiliar to her. She looked up at Booth, intending to ask him about the female sender, but he had already started from the office. Closing her mouth again, she hurried after him, opening the envelope. A thick paper fell out; flipping it over, Brennan saw that it was an invitation to a high school reunion. Of course, this realization simply made her more confused.

"Booth, why are you worried about your high school reunion? Didn't you like high school?" She quickened her pace a bit to keep up with him as they weaved their way through the crowd to the elevator. He pressed the button to go down before turning to her.

"I did enjoy it, Bones. Read the rest of the invitation."

She opened the thick invitation and found the usual information: date, time, location, in a flowery script. Below the information, however, was a handwritten note that simply read "Looking forward to seeing you again and meeting your wife. Tasha." Brennan looked to Booth wearing a puzzled expression. "You don't have a wife, Booth," she pointed out.

"Thanks, Bones, I know." The elevator arrived at the floor with a ding, and both stepped on.

"Then why does this woman think you do?"

"I may have told her that I did."

"Why?"

Booth sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had known he would have to give her the whole story as soon as he gave her the letter, and in many ways, he wanted to. He did not like keeping secrets from Brennan. Still, he was not looking forward to her reaction. "We dated in high school. I broke it off about midway through my senior year. She claimed that it was because I was afraid of commitment, that I would never settle down. Anyway, I ran into her a few months ago, and she made some comment to the effect of how I turned out just like she expected—still a bachelor. Well, I wasn't really thinking; I was just mad at her for being presumptuous, so I may have. . . stretched the truth a little bit."

"Stretched the truth? As in. . . ?"

"I told her that I was married," he said quickly.

"Why?"

"Because I wasn't really thinking at the time. I just wanted to show her that she was wrong about me, to prove once and for all that I could settle down."

"So you lied about being married?"

"Yes, Bones, I lied." The elevator opened into the garage, and he stepped out, his hand automatically coming to rest on her lower back. "I didn't really think anything would come of it. Unfortunately, I didn't account for the fact that she would be on the planning committee for the reunion."

"So just tell her you lied."

"No, I'll never live that one down."

"Then don't go to the reunion."

"No, she expects me to. If I don't go, she'll know something's up."

"You could have just been busy."

"I've been to all my previous reunions. She knows I enjoy them." He opened the door of the SUV for her before climbing in himself. "Maybe I could just tell her my wife couldn't make it," he mused as he started the car. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. "Bones?"

"Hmm?" She looked up from the invitation.

"I have a favor to ask."

"Okay. Shoot. That is the proper phrase, correct?"

Booth chuckled slightly. "Yeah, Bones, you got that one right." He took a deep breath, ready for her immediate rejection of what he was about to ask. "So, Bones, I was thinking that I need to have a wife for the reunion next month and since we're partners and all, I thought you might be willing to help me out with that."

"I'm not marrying you, Booth. You know I think marriage is-"

"No, Bones, I don't want you to marry me," Booth corrected quickly. "I was just thinking you could come to the reunion with me and pretend to be my wife. We don't have to actually be married."

"I don't know, Booth. I have a lot of work to finish at the Jeffersonian, and I don't like the idea of pretending to be married when I don't believe in marriage."

"Please, Bones." He turned to her with what he hoped was his best charm smile. She paused a moment before speaking, and he thought he had her.

Unfortunately, he was mistaken. "I don't think I can, Booth. Ask Cam."

"I don't want Cam to do it. I want you, Bones." Booth sighed. It seemed that he was going to have to use his ultimate trump card, the one he had been saving for just such an occasion, knowing that he could use it to convince Bones to do virtually anything for him. "I'll get you a gun," he offered.

For a moment, he thought she was going to reject him outright, but instead she simply said, "A real gun? One that actually shoots straight and not some silly thing that women carry around in their purse?"

"Yes, Bones, a real gun," he promised, wondering what he was getting himself into.

"Okay. We have a deal."

And so one month later, Booth stood on Brennan's doorstep just after 7:00 on a Thursday morning. Brennan had complained bitterly about having to leave on Thursday, for this leaving day meant that she would have to miss four days of work (for some reason that Booth could not fathom, she counted a missed weekend as a missed day of work). Her complaints had died off somewhat, however, after Booth had presented her with a new Sig Sauer (and promises to take her to the shooting range along with a warning against using it unless her life or the lives of others were in danger. He only hoped she would listen).

He knocked softly on the door. Though they had exchanged keys to their apartments a few months before, he preferred not to use his except in an emergency. A few seconds after he knocked, the door swung open, revealing Brennan standing before him with a bag slung over her shoulder. "Ready to go, Bones?" he inquired.

"I still don't know how I let you talk me into this," she commented, shrugging off his outstretched hand, choosing instead to move her bag further up onto her shoulder and carry it herself. With a sigh, he followed her.

They spent the car ride trading stories about their high school days. Brennan was telling a story about how Russ had filled the toilets at the high school with dry ice one day so that they all were smoking for a few minutes when she suddenly grew quiet. Booth turned to her, concerned. "What's wrong?" he questioned.

"That was two weeks before my parents disappeared," she explained quietly. Reaching over, Booth took her hand in his, gently stroking the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb.

"That's the past, Bones. It's all the past," he assured her.

They were staying at a hotel near Booth's high school; though Booth's parents still lived in the area, he was adamant about never seeing them again. Brennan never pressed the issue; she knew that Booth had had a tough childhood though he never gave her exact details, and she did not feel like dragging up bad memories. The smiling desk worker checked them into the hotel, telling them, "Have a nice stay, Mr. and Mrs. Booth," as they left. Booth nodded, hurrying Brennan from the lobby before she could complain about the tradition of the wife taking her husband's name.

Their room was large and appeared comfortable with a king-sized bed, a sofa, and two plush chairs. The furniture was decorated with the ridiculous floral patterns that hotels insisted on using though the colors were muted enough that they did not appear too horrible. "Nice room," Booth commented, dropping the suitcases just inside the doorway. "The sofa's supposed to be a pull-out, so I'll take that, and you can have the bed," he told her. She nodded absent-mindedly, taking her suitcase to the small chest of drawers beneath the television so that she could unpack. He flopped down on the sofa, grabbing the remote from the nearby table and flipping the television on. In a couple minutes, he was engrossed in a cartoon.

"Are you just going to sit there and watch cartoons?" Brennan questioned after a few minutes, straightening as she turned to face him. "Because if that's the case, I could have at least had a half day of work today."

"We have a tour of the high school at one," Booth explained. "So I figured we could grab some lunch before that, but we still have about half an hour to kill before we need to head out."

"And you want to watch some animated characters prance around?"

"It's cartoons. They're funny." And with that, Booth turned back to the screen.


	2. Chapter 2

An hour and a half later, they stood outside a sprawling brick building with a sign out front that proclaimed it to be Kellerton High School. A few students lounged out front, eying the adults with suspicion. "Bones, before we go in, you think you can put these on?" Booth questioned, handing her a wedding band and engagement ring. Brennan glanced at them briefly before slipping them onto her left ring finger.

"These are real, Booth," she told him.

"I know. They were my grandmother's." He pulled another ring out of his pocket, this one a men's wedding band. "And this belongs to a buddy of mine who just got divorced. He said I could borrow it for the weekend."

"Do you know where the tradition of wearing rings came from?"

"Nope, and right now, I really don't care. We need to go in or we're going to be late. Oh, and one more thing. Can you do me a favor and call me Seeley this weekend? It'll seem odd if you call me by my last name since we're supposed to be married."

"I guess that means you should call me Tempe."

"Sounds good. You okay with this, Bones?"

"Tempe, remember? And I'm fine. It'll be just like an undercover operation, Tony."

"You got that right, Roxie." They shared a private smile before exiting the car, joining the crowd of other people who were approaching the building, all appearing a bit lost, likely due to the fact that they had not been to the school in years. "Bones, I'm going to put my arm around your waist. Please don't freak and knock me to the ground or something," Booth whispered in her ear as they walked together. She nodded, unable to tell him that she really did not mind at all if he put his arm around her, that she actually liked the feeling of its warm weight

They followed the stream of people in the main doors of the building, stopping in a large lobby with the school crest painted on the tile floor. The lobby was noisy from the multiple conversations as people reacquainted themselves with old friends. Brennan was still trying to take in everything around her when a loud voice said, "Well, if it isn't Seeley Booth!" Booth and Brennan both turned to face a large, beefy man with short, brown hair and piercing green eyes.

"Jason Caldwell?" Booth questioned, his eyes lighting up when he saw his old friend. "I haven't seen you in years. How have you been?"

"Good, good. And who is this lovely lady?" He gestured to Brennan who raised her eyebrows. Booth cut in before she could say something potentially insulting.

"This is my wife Temperance."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Temperance."

"You, too," Brennan told him, taking the hand he extended to her.

They spent a few minutes talking to Jason before he excused himself since he saw another friend. As Jason left, Booth pulled Brennan closer to his side. "You okay there, Bones?" he questioned. "You were very quiet that whole time."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "You know, you're not very good at this whole using my real name thing. It's a wonder we survived undercover."

"I'll use your real name when I need to. Right now, no one else is listening."

"Can I get everyone's attention please?" a woman's voice called from the front. Gradually, the noise lowered as everyone turned to face the woman who had spoken. She was tall and thin with short, blond hair and deep blue eyes. She was certainly attractive with delicate facial features and a well-endowed figure. It did not take long before she had the full attention of most of the men in the room. "Thank you," she said once the noise level had died down. "Now, we've got a few current students here who are going to lead you through the school so you can see first hand how much has changed since you were here. If you would just split up into six equal groups, then we can get started."

It took a couple minutes for the group to split, but they eventually managed to make the tour groups roughly equal in size, and they all set off. As they walked, the woman who had been making the announcement came up beside Booth and Brennan. "Seeley Booth, it's been too long," she told him.

"Hello, Tasha," he said, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. She seemed not to notice, however, for she continued to speak eagerly.

"Is this your wife?"

"Yes, this is Temperance," Booth said.

"Temperance. That's a lovely name."

"It has its share of problems," Brennan remarked.

"Well, this is my husband, Rick," she said, indicating a tall, dark-haired man beside her. Booth's arm left Brennan's waist for the first time since they entered the building as he shook Rick's hand. Brennan also shook, feeling Booth's arm wrap around her waist once more as Rick's eyes lingered on her a bit too long.

"It's nice to meet both of you," Rick said.

"You, too," Booth said, perhaps a bit more curtly than polite. Before they could continue their conversation, however, the tour guide stopped the group to say something about the school, and they all turned their attention to her.

When the tour ended an hour and a half later, Tasha stopped Booth and Brennan before they could leave the building. "You two should have dinner with Rick and I tonight," she suggested, a smile plastered on her face.

"I don't know," Booth began, his brain scrambling to find a polite way out of the invitation.

"Come on, it'll be great to catch up. Meet us at six at Smitty's? You still remember where that is, don't you?"

"I do," Booth admitted a bit grudgingly.

"Great! I'll see you then."

As Tasha left, Brennan rounded on Booth. "What gives you the right to make dinner plans for both of us? I was hoping to grab some takeout and get some work done on my book tonight. I don't want-"

"Look, Bones, she cornered me. You saw that. There wasn't really a way out of it. You've got some time to work on your book before we have to go anyway."

"Fine, Booth, but you owe me."

"I got you a gun. That was the deal."

"That was before I knew that I would be required to attend multiple social functions with your ex-girlfriends."

"Just one ex. And I don't want to go any more than you do, but we're kinda stuck."

"You still owe me."

"Okay, Bones, I owe you."

When they returned to their hotel room, Brennan first called Angela. Her friend picked up on the second ring. "Hi, Sweetie," she greeted.

"Hi, Ange. How are things at the lab?"

"Same as always. Hodgins is brooding about something, Cam is off somewhere, and Mr. Nigel-Murray is annoying us all with useless facts. How about you? How is the book coming?"

"Slowly. I seem to have reached an impasse. Any new cases?"

"No, no sign of our sexy FBI agent."

"Anything else new?"

"No. Like usual, there's just a bunch of old stuff here. I believe the current body is of a Bronze Age warrior." Angela and Brennan chatted for a short while longer before Brennan declared that she should start working on her book again, and Angela let her go. As Brennan hung up, she turned to Booth who was once more sprawled out on the couch. He looked up at her.

"How's the squint squad?" he questioned.

"Good."

"Does Angela still believe that you're taking a four day vacation to finish up your book?"

"Yes. She knows how anal my editor can be about deadlines."

"I still don't understand why you didn't just tell her where you were going."

"Because that would invite too many questions. I didn't feel like dealing with Angela's extreme nosiness."

"So you lied to her?"

"Not entirely. I do plan to work on my book while I'm here."

"That, Bones, is a lie, and you know it."

At 5:55, they pulled up outside a restaurant that looked to be considerably fancier than the places they usually frequented. A valet stopped them as they drove toward the parking lot, insisting on taking their car. Booth seemed reluctant at first, but he eventually acquiesced and handed over the keys. As Brennan stepped around the car, he came to meet her, once more wrapping his arm around her waist to lead her into the restaurant. Though he would never admit it to her, he greatly enjoyed having his arm around her. He loved having her warm body close to his. She seemed to fit perfectly against his side. He was going to regret when the weekend was over and they had to return to their regular lives as just partners.

The inside of the restaurant was dimly lit with a few tasteful decorations done in rich, deep reds and golds. As Booth took a deep breath, the scent of sizzling steak tickled his nostrils, and his stomach growled, reminding him of how hungry he was. A hostess smiled as they approached. "Two?" she inquired.

Booth wanted to mutter "I wish" but held his tongue, instead saying, "We're meeting a couple friends. I don't know if they've arrived yet or not." He glanced around and suddenly noticed Tasha and Rick sitting at a table near the front of the restaurant. When Tasha saw that his attention was turned in their direction, she waved vigorously, and Booth pointed. "Actually, that's them."

"Okay, you two can just head on over then."

When they approached the table, Tasha gave them a wide smile. "Right on time. I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of Merlot though if either of you want anything different, you're welcome to order what you want."

"I'm fine, thanks," Booth told her as he pulled out Brennan's chair for her, hoping that she did not give him a speech about Alpha-male tendencies.

Brennan turned to Booth as he sat down, confusion evident on her face. "But you dislike wine, especially Merlot," she said logically.

"Well, I don't plan on drinking much tonight, Sweetie" Booth said, stressing the pet name slightly, knowing that it would irk her. "I still need to drive back to the hotel."

"I could drive," Brennan suggested.

"We've had this discussion before, and it always ends in the same way."

"Only because you're too pig-headed and chauvinistic-"

"Good thing I know you're kidding, huh, Sweetie, or I might be offended by that. . . colorful description," Booth said, his eyes boring into hers, silently telling her that it was neither the time nor place for that argument. They were supposed to be newlyweds, still madly in love with one another and not fighting over petty things like who got to drive home.

Though Brennan was not good at reading people in general, she could read Booth, and she quickly understood his meaning. "Right. . . honey," she agreed, the endearment sounding foreign on her tongue.

"Do you two have spats like these often?" Rick questioned.

"We're two opinionated people. Disagreements are inevitable," Brennan said.

"But we always make up in the end," Booth added quickly. "That's what counts." He pulled Brennan against him, slightly surprised when instead of stiffening and trying to push away, she actually snuggled against his side.

"So, Temperance, what do you do for a living?" Tasha questioned.

"I work as a forensic anthropologist. I help the FBI to identify bodies that are too decomposed for classical means of identification," Brennan explained bluntly.

"Oh." Tasha looked a bit green.

"You know, our work is not really good for dinner conversation," Booth said.

"Did you two meet at work?" Rick inquired.

"We did," Booth confirmed.

"Love at first sight?" Tasha asked.

"Not exactly," Booth glanced sideways at Brennan, a grin on his face.

"It took us awhile," Brennan added.

"What about you two? Where did you meet?" Booth questioned before one of the partners said something which would destroy the entire charade.

"A mutual friend introduced us," Rick told him. "I actually grew up not too far from here. I went to Macer."

"Ah, a Husky," Booth said.

"Yep. Old rivals. I'm actually surprised Tasha and I had never run into each other before. The two schools certainly had a lot of interaction."

"Do you two still live around here?" Brennan inquired.

"A couple miles from here," Tasha told them. "Our kids will grow up Wildcats."

"If we don't move before then," Rick added.

"You have kids?" Booth inquired.

"Two months along," Tasha said, patting her stomach.

"Congratulations," Booth said, hoping she could not hear the falseness of his enthusiasm. Brennan, of course, picked up on it immediately and looked at him, but Tasha and Rick continued on as if nothing had happened.

"Yes, we're both very excited," Tasha said. "Are you two planning on having kids?"

"Not right now," Booth said. "We're still trying to settle in with each other. There's no point in throwing another person into the mix."

They spent all of dinner talking about families and their lives after high school. Tasha dominated most of the conversation, and by the end of dinner, both Booth and Brennan were beginning to grow annoyed by her bubbly personality. They declined dessert, hoping to make a quick exit, but Tasha had other plans. "Why don't you two come back to our house for awhile for some dessert instead?"

"There's some work we need to do," Booth fabricated.

"Nonsense. You're on vacation, and it's not an early day tomorrow, so there's no excuse. You can follow me to the house."

Booth looked at Brennan apologetically. "Okay," he agreed half-heartedly.

"Wonderful. Did you valet?" When Booth confirmed that he did, Tasha started explaining the details of how they should get to her house, and he listened as he grudgingly followed her out of the restaurant, his arm again around Brennan.


	3. Chapter 3

They followed Tasha and Rick to a large house in the suburbs with a neatly-tended, slightly sloped front yard and stucco walls. Booth parked their car in the cul-de-sac before stepping around to Brennan's side of the car. Instead of placing his arm around her waist this time, however, he reached down and entwined her fingers with his. In some ways, the simple gesture was more intimate than the casual arm around the waist to which Brennan had grown accustomed. An arm around a waist could simply indicate friendship or camaraderie. Linked hands, however, implied something more—a physical joining that mirrored an emotional one. And Booth knew Brennan was reluctant to bond with anyone emotionally.

Fortunately, she did not shake off his hand or give any indication of displeasure at having their hands clasped together. Booth's heart soared when he first noticed this, but it was quickly deflated as a rational voice in the back of his head pointed out that they were still acting. She was probably only accepting the intimate gesture because of their façade as husband and wife. He only hoped that one day she would accept the same gesture without any acting involved.

Rick and Tasha met them in the garage and ushered them into the house. Both partners declined a drink, Booth again using the excuse that he was driving, and Brennan claiming that she had had too much already (though Booth knew for a fact that she had no more than a glass at dinner). Tasha continued to offer other nonalcoholic beverages until they finally settled on water, and she disappeared into the kitchen, returning a couple minutes later with two glasses of water and a bottle of vodka. Booth raised his eyebrows when he saw this, knowing that Rick had finished off most of the bottle of wine at dinner but he said nothing, figuring that he wasn't driving home, and it wasn't his problem.

"Oh, Rick, we should play that new game with them!" Tasha exclaimed suddenly, jumping from her seat. Rick shrugged, and she bounded off to retrieve the game. When she returned, she was holding a large cardboard box and babbling about the game. "It's a game for newlyweds," she explained, setting the box on the table. "A couple of our friends got it for us when we were first married. It's supposed to test how much you know about a person and then help you get to know them better. You're supposed to have at least two couples playing against each other, so we haven't played as much as we would like, but now's the perfect opportunity, especially since you two are practically newlyweds."

She was already setting up the board, leaving Booth and Brennan little room to object. Booth thought about making a quick exit with a plea of tiredness because of an early morning that day (which was partially true—it was not particularly early, but he woke earlier than he usually did to finish packing). But as Tasha set up the game, Booth caught a glimpse of some of the cards and suddenly decided that the game might be more interesting than he had originally believed.

The first section consisted of mostly basic questions about mundane things such as favorite food, sibling's names and ages, and first pet growing up. Booth was slightly surprised that Brennan managed to answer nearly all the questions about him correctly, but he supposed they had spent enough time together that it was only natural that she know so much about him. Rick and Tasha also managed to answer the majority of the questions correctly, and they finished the first part of the board virtually neck and neck.

Before they could continue the game, both teams had to stop on a large red space on the board. Bending over, Booth read from the space, "Each person needs to ask one question of their partner that they've always wanted to know the answer to but have never been able to ask, and the partner must answer truthfully." Booth turned to Brennan, his eyebrows raised, wondering what question he had always wanted to know the answer to but had never asked.

"Ooh, ooh, I'll go first," Tasha said, looking just like a five-year-old who had been offered something sweet. Turning to Rick, she asked, "What happened with you and what's-her-name. The blond girl."

"Cindy?" Rick was fairly well gone by this point; even if Booth had not seen him consume copious amounts of alcohol, he would have known by the way Rick slurred his speech and by the redness of his eyes. "Ah, we just kissed a little. It was nuthin'." He hiccupped, and Booth felt Brennan unconsciously scoot closer to him, away from Rick who appeared to be in danger of falling out of his chair.

"You were on top of her," Tasha pointed out. "In our bed."

"With clothes," Rick added.

Tasha shook her head slowly. "Only 'cuz I came in before you could take them off." Rick was silent, confirming the accuracy of her statement. Booth was suddenly feeling uncomfortable; the conversation seemed to be one best had when the two were in private. However, Rick's drunken state and Tasha's natural lack of inhibitions seemed to render their sense of what should and should not be brought up in public obsolete.

"What about you and the guy with the floppy hair?"

"Jason and I are just friends. We never did anything. And that counts as your question, so it's Seeley's and Temperance's turns." She turned to Booth expectantly, and he looked over at Brennan, trying to figure out how to make a quick exit. Brennan, however, seemed to be contemplating the task. Great. Booth could only imagine what question she would come up with to ask him.

"Temperance. You go first," Tasha announced, now turning to Brennan. "There must be something you want to know about Seeley here. Something he never told you."

Brennan thought for a minute or so and honestly could not think of anything. The more time she spent with Booth, the more of his secrets he shared with her and the more she shared in return. "Maybe he was late for something important sometime and made up some lame excuse for where he was," Tasha suggested, looking pointedly at her husband.

Tasha's final words triggered a deeply buried memory in Brennan's brain, one that should have been forgotten long before but which had for some reason remained in her head. She focused her attention on Booth, noticing his look of apprehension. "A couple years ago, you were late for Maria's funeral. Actually, you missed the whole thing. When I asked you why, you never told me. So why were you late?"

Booth swallowed hard. Of course he had never told her the reason he was late for that funeral. He knew she would accuse him of being overprotective, assuring him that she could take care of herself. She would not be happy that he threatened a gang leader even if he had done it to save her life. Sometimes, she did not realize that as strong as she was, there were situations that were simply out of her control. He knew she hated to be out of control, hated the feeling of not being able to choose her own path in life. That was why he had kept his actions a secret, why he had never told her where he was that day. He wanted her to retain that feeling of self-reliance that she had worked so hard to build, wanted her to know that she could handle situations, for he knew that if she ever doubted herself, that self-doubt could easily become all-consuming. And so he had kept the secret which he knew could easily blow up in his face later or possibly lose him his job. He kept it because he knew in his heart that in the situation, he had responded in the only way which would keep her from getting hurt. And he would do anything to ensure that.

"Bo-Tempe, now isn't the best time to discuss that."

"I'm supposed to ask a question, and I asked a question. What? You weren't with a woman, were you?"

Booth laughed in spite of himself though he knew she could hear his anxiety in his laughter. "No, I wasn't with a woman. You remember how you beat up Ortez?"

"Yes. It was actually a rather satisfying experience."

"Well, it turns out gang leaders don't take kindly to being beaten up. The gang task force unit informed me that Mara Muerte put a hit out on you. So I was. . . taking care of it. Making sure Ortez didn't come after you."

"I could take care of myself, Seeley."

He sighed, having predicted this reaction. "Tempe, they're gang members. They're not going to get close enough to let you use your extensive martial arts skills."

"Which is why I need a gun."

"You don't need a gun. I'm your gun."

"If you gave me a gun, you wouldn't have to go threaten gang leaders for me."

"Tempe, I'll always threaten gang leaders for you whether you have a gun or not."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to risk losing you," he said with sincerity. She looked up at him, and he watched the emotions play out across her face.

"I understand that your alpha male tendencies give you an irrational need to protect me even when I'm in no danger, and I accept that as simply being part of your personality," she said finally. Booth smiled. It seemed that they were back to Booth and Brennan, FBI agent and forensic anthropologist, partners and best friends. Of course, that other element of their relationship, the one that they refused to acknowledge or name, still lurked beneath the surface. It had been appearing much more lately, and Booth wondered how much longer they could ignore it.

Tasha had been watching them argue back and forth like it was a tennis match. "Gang leaders?" she finally questioned.

"It's a long story," they said together, looking over at her and Rick who was snoring in his chair, an empty shot glass hanging from his hand.

"Actually, we should probably get going," Booth said, standing. "We'll see you tomorrow, Tasha. It was a nice evening. Thank you."

"It was," she agreed with a false smile, standing and leading them to the door. They said their goodbyes and made a quick exit, walking hand-in-hand to the car.

"You never got to ask me a question," Brennan pointed out as Booth started the car.

"I already know everything about you," he said, smiling.

"No, you don't," she argued, making him chuckle.

"Okay. Let's see, what have I always wanted to know about you?" He thought for a minute as he pulled out of Tasha's neighborhood. Finally, he asked, "Why did you really not go with Sully?"

Brennan suddenly became very interested in her hands, wishing she had not brought up this particular topic of conversation. "I had work," she started, giving the standard excuse, the one she had given to Angela and him countless times before.

"Uh-uh, Bones, that's not going to fly this time. I want the real reason."

"That is the real reason."

"It's not and you know it."

"I didn't want to leave the cases or our work. They're too important for me to just quit and sail off. And I didn't want. . . to leave you." There. She had admitted it, finally voiced the secret she had kept for so long. As much as she hated relying on someone else, she had come to rely on Booth, on their partnership. She needed him, craved his presence, looked forward to the afternoons where he would come in and force her away from her work to eat lunch. In truth, she did not know what she would do without him. Her life had been empty without him, and she was fairly certain it would be empty again if he were to leave. But she knew he would never leave her. She did not know how she could be so assured of this fact, but she was as confident of it as she was of the existence of gravity.

As always, he seemed to know exactly what to do. Reaching out, he took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand gently. "Thanks, Bones. I know that wasn't easy," he told her. She gave him a weak smile as he turned his attention back to the road. Their hands stayed linked for the entire ride back to the hotel, but now they could no longer delude themselves that it was all an act, for there was no one around to deceive except for themselves.


	4. Chapter 4

When they reached their room, Booth offered her the shower first, and she gratefully gathered her pajamas and entered the bathroom. He settled in to watch some more television while completing his nightly crunches and push-ups, a habit he had picked up in the army. When Brennan emerged from the bathroom, a sheen of sweat covered his face as he forced his body to finish the last set of sit-ups. For this reason, he did not immediately notice her outfit, but as soon as he raised his torso for the final time, he glanced in her direction, and he suddenly found himself staring. Brennan's pajamas left little to the imagination; they consisted of a short, silk gown which barely reached her mid-thigh. Booth could not tear his eyes away.

Luckily, Brennan seemed entirely unaware of the effect she had on him. She bustled around, busying herself preparing for bed. As he watched her, it struck Booth how comfortable she was with him; she was perfectly fine walking around in front of him wearing next to nothing. The entire situation seemed fairly intimate; in fact, many of their interactions were fairly intimate despite their insistence that they were "just partners." Of course, Booth did not care; he would take what he could get.

Eventually, she turned, and he immediately directed his attention to the television screen in front of him. "You can have the shower now, Booth," she told him.

"Okay, thanks, Bones," he said, flipping off the show he had not really been watching anyway. As he passed her, he happened to catch a glimpse of her upper thigh as the nightgown rode up a bit. Oh, yeah, he definitely needed a shower. A nice cold one.

Later that night, Brennan lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She could hear Booth tossing and turning on the pull-out sofa a few feet away, and she could not sleep. It was not so much the noise which kept her awake, for he was fairly quiet about his movements. Rather, it was knowing that he was uncomfortable which made her feel uncomfortable, too. "Booth?" she called into the dark room.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"You can sleep on the bed if you want. It's probably more comfortable than the couch, especially with your bad back."

"I'm not kicking you out, Bones."

"You wouldn't be kicking me out. I'm suggesting we share the bed. It's a king-sized bed, plenty of room for two people. You can take one side, and I'll take the other, and we'll probably never even notice that someone else is in the bed with us."

"Are you sure, Bones?"

"Of course I'm sure." She rolled over to one side, giving him plenty of room to climb into the bed next to her.

"Hey, you left me the left side!" he said excitedly as she felt the bed dip down under his weight. "It's my favorite."

"That's good because I prefer the right."

"Funny how things work out, huh, Bones?"

"Yeah, funny."

"Night, Bones."

"Goodnight, Booth."

Booth awoke first the following morning to see sunlight streaming through a slit in the curtains. He blinked, his mind registering his surroundings. It did not take him long to ascertain that he was not alone in the bed, and the events of the previous night came back to him. The one thing he could not account for, however, was why his arm was currently wrapped around the waist of his partner, holding her body flush against his. They had definitely been on opposite sides of the bed when they fell asleep and had evidently shifted at some point in time during the night. Of course, he was not complaining. He loved having Brennan close to him, loved waking up to the scent of her shampoo and the feel of her warm body in his arms. He could not remember the last time he had awoken with a woman in his arms; between work and Parker, he had had little time for a social life. Besides, he had slowly come to realize that no one could possibly compare to the woman he currently held. He did not want anyone else; unfortunately, he had drawn that stupid line, effectively eliminating any chance that they would ever be anything more than "just partners." For now, he would have to be content with moments like these, moments when they let their guard down and allowed themselves to come dangerously close to that damn line.

Booth felt movement beside him, and started to retract his arm, assuming she was waking up and would not be very happy if she found them in their current position. However, he quickly realized that she had other plans; he felt her snuggle up against him, her back pressed into his chest. Well, if she wasn't complaining, he certainly was not going to. With a satisfied smile, he tightened his grip around her waist, allowing himself to doze again. The last coherent thought which passed through his head was _I never would've pegged Bones as a snuggler_.

When Booth next awoke, he found himself staring directly into the deep blue of Brennan's eyes. Surprisingly, though she was awake, she made no move to push herself away from him. "Morning, Bones," he said, slightly apprehensive, wondering if she was planning on taking his arm off for daring to put it around her.

"Good morning, Booth. What time is it?"

Okay, still no indication of any homicidal tendencies. Booth raised his head, still keeping his arm firmly around her waist. If she wasn't going to object, he certainly had no problem with his current position. "7:53," he announced.

"I should work on my book." Still, she made no more to get up.

"And I guess I should go running. We're supposed to meet at 10:00 to do some touristy stuff in Philly."

"Didn't most of you grow up here? Wouldn't you have already done the touristy stuff?" Brennan questioned, puzzled.

"Well, things have changed a lot since when we grew up," Booth explained. "But if you don't want to go, we can always do something just the two of us. Trust me, I know plenty of stuff to do that's not the usual 'touristy stuff'."

Brennan thought for a minute before responding. "Okay. That sounds nice."

"Cool. Let's join the tour group for the first part of the day, and then we can break off on our own for lunch and some more interesting sightseeing." He finally removed his arm from her waist, acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have it there. Stretching, he sat up in bed.

"I think I'll join you on that run," Brennan decided, also sliding out of bed. He simply nodded, standing to retrieve sweatpants and a t-shirt.

They grabbed a quick breakfast at a nearby café before meeting the rest of the people from the reunion at Independence Hall. "I'm certain this hasn't changed since you were last here," Brennan pointed out as they walked into the historic building. "I don't see why they would decide to come here."

"Because we're in Philadelphia, Tempe. Independence Hall is where you go when you're in Philadelphia." Booth looped his arm around her shoulders as they approached the large group of people gathered outside the building, still catching up with one another after so many years apart.

"I must say, Booth, you've done well for yourself," a voice remarked from behind them. Both partners turned to see a tall, well-built man with untidy blond hair.

"Shriner, is that you? It's been a long time, man."

"Too long." Shriner remarked, grabbing Booth's hand and shaking heartily. "So, who is this lovely woman with you?"

"This is my wife, Temperance," Booth introduced. Brennan reached out, taking one of Shriner's hands in her own. His hand completely engulfed hers, but his grip was relatively light as he shook.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Brennan said.

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine," Shriner corrected, grinning at her. "So tell me, Booth, how did you manage to find such a lovely lady?"

"Luck, I guess. Or maybe it was the charm smile." He hugged Brennan's shoulders, pulling her against his side. "What about you? Last time I saw you, you were still a sworn bachelor, chasing around every woman you met."

"Still am, actually. Did you know Kristina Dalton is single?"

Booth chuckled. "No, I was unaware of that fact."

"Just divorced her husband, actually. I was talking to her some yesterday. She seemed very willing to accept some comfort."

"Which I'm sure you were happy to give," Booth remarked.

"Of course. Actually, there she is now. Kristina!" As Shriner turned to attract Kristina's attention, Brennan leaned over to whisper in Booth's ear.

"He calls you Booth. Why can't I?"

"He and I played football together. I call him by his last name, too; everyone on the team went by their last name when we were around each other. But you didn't play football with me, and it would be weird if my wife called me by our last name."

"When did I agree to take your last name?"

"We're married. That's what happens when you're married."

"Not always."

"Fine. You can be one of those new age brides who hyphenates then."

"Hyphenating makes no sense and is much too long."

"What would you do then?"

"Assuming I married, which I won't since I believe it's an antiquated ritual, I would simply keep my own last name. It's already well-known in the professional field and also the name I use for all my books. If I were to change my name, it would be much too confusing. Besides, the taking of the male's last name during marriage is simply another ridiculous way for men to assert dominance."

"Assert dominance? Well, that was an awkward time to enter that conversation," Shriner remarked as he turned around, his arm wrapped around a blond woman in her mid-thirties. "Everyone, this is Kristina. Kristina, this is my old friend Seeley Booth; you might remember him. And the lovely woman with him is his wife Temperance." He indicated each in turn.

"You look familiar," Kristina remarked, squinting at Brennan.

"I can't think of why," Brennan lied, knowing even as she spoke that Kristina likely recognized her from her books. However, she was still unaccustomed to people exclaiming over her fame and generally tried to avoid such occurrences.

"Well, maybe it will come to me later."

"So, Booth, I didn't expect you to settle down," Shriner remarked as the group began moving toward the entrance where a tour guide was introducing herself.

"I guess it just took the right woman," Booth said, pulling Brennan closer to his side. As had been happening quite often over the past few days, she surprised him by leaning into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Well, I must say, if I found someone willing to stick with me who looked like that, I'd consider settling down, too," Shriner said.

"Careful," Booth warned, his eyes narrowing.

Shriner held up his hands with a chuckle. "Don't worry, man, I'm not going to try to take away your woman. I was just saying that if I found someone like her. . ."

"I don't belong to anyone," Brennan protested as Booth knew she would.

"Of course not," Booth agreed. By this point, the tour had started, and they quieted somewhat as the guide led them into the old building.

When the tour ended, it was nearing noon. "I'm starving," Booth remarked, emerging from the building into the brilliant sunlight.

"I think they've got reservations for the group at Houston's," Shriner offered.

"Actually, I think I'm going to pass on that one," Booth said. "It's a bit too fancy for me. Besides, I promised Tempe we'd break off on our own after the morning. There are some things I want to show her." He squeezed Brennan's hand.

"Oh." A knowing grin spread across Shriner's face.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, man, that's not what I was talking about," Booth said, cuffing him in the arm. "Though if she agrees. . ." His eyes darted over to Brennan, and he was not surprised to find an expression of confusion on her face.

"I'm not sure I follow the implication," Brennan remarked. "Are you or are you not showing me the sights?" Booth could not help it; he laughed, hugging her to him.

"Don't worry, we'll see the sights."


	5. Chapter 5

At Booth's insistence, they stopped at a small diner for lunch. "They have some of the best pie I've ever tasted," Booth told Brennan as they slid into a booth.

"Is the rest of their food any good?" she questioned.

"Top notch. Trust me, you'll love it." A cheerful waitress approached the table with menus, but Booth waved them off, ordering for both himself and Brennan. The waitress nodded and left, promising to return soon with their drinks.

"Booth, what if I wanted to see a menu?" Brennan inquired.

"You don't need to see a menu. I know the menu by heart."

"That doesn't mean you know what I want."

"Of course I do. I know you, Bones."

Brennan was going to argue more, but he changed the topic, leaving no further room for debate. They argued amicably until their food came at which point both grew quiet as they focused on their respective meals. It did not take Brennan long to realize that Booth was right; he had ordered what she had wanted. Of course, she would never admit this to him; instead, she continued to eat steadily, trying to keep her face impassive. But of course he knew. She saw him smirk as he watched her eat.

"Enjoying your food, Bones?" he inquired.

"It is very satisfying," she told him, unwilling to concede defeat. She sometimes wondered how Booth knew her so well. His ability to accurately deduce her food preferences was different than Sid's; Sid simply had a gift for deducing what everyone wanted, but though Booth was good at reading people, she was fairly certain that she was the only person for whom he could order exactly what she wanted. She supposed it was because he knew her well; after three years of working together, such knowledge of each other was to be expected. But sometimes, she still found it uncanny how well Booth knew her. He could give her a cursory glance and accurately deduct her mood; he could tell that she was lying from the slightest unconscious twitch or movement of the eyes even when everyone else around her believed her falsehoods. He knew her past, knew her fears, her hopes, her dreams. She supposed his possession of such intimate knowledge of her should have sent her running, and if he were anybody else, it would have. But he was Booth. She could not exactly explain what was different about him, but she knew something was. Something about him made her feel safer with him than she had ever before felt with another man. She trusted him completely, trusted him with herself, and that trust was one that she had never before given to anyone else.

"Which is your way of saying you like it and I'm right," he said with a triumphant grin, waving a fry at her. She opened her mouth to respond but could think of nothing to say. Instead, she threw caution to the wind, leaning forward to bite off the end of the fry which he was still holding, pointing it at her. As she chewed carefully, he cocked his head and regarded her with an expression she could not read. His fingers, which still held the remainder of the fry, began to slowly move toward her mouth as the grin slid off his face. The air seemed to be charged with electricity; Brennan could almost feel the hairs of her neck standing on end. She watched as Booth's eyes darkened, the fry still moving steadily closer, now seemingly in slow motion. Brennan wondered what would happen when it reached her mouth. She could sense that it would be something important, something memorable, something which would change the two of them. The fry was no longer simply a fry; it was something else, something infinitely more important. Brennan could not accurately define what it was, for she had never been too good with metaphors, but she did recognize its significance. Normally, it would annoy her that she could not categorize something, but in this instance, she was too focused on whatever was going on to think about anything else.

"Well, you might as well take the whole thing," Booth remarked suddenly, turning his hand up so the fry was sitting on his palm. Brennan blinked as if suddenly awaking and found that his eyes had returned to their normal color and the odd tingling of the air had disappeared. Booth looked slightly off put, but he tried to cover with his usual cocky grin. Two years before, the ruse would have fooled Brennan, and she would have believed she had imagined the whole event, made something out of nothing. But she knew better now; she could see the slight tremor in Booth's hand and the odd gleam in his eye which, though somewhat masked now, still lurked just beneath the surface.

"Thanks." Brennan accepted the remainder of the fry and popped it into her mouth, swallowing quickly before she could analyze the situation further. Right now, she needed to act as if nothing had happened. As long as she continued to insist that nothing had, perhaps she would eventually begin to believe that fact.

"Eat up, Bones, I have a full afternoon planned for us," Booth told her.

"What are we doing?"

"You'll see, Bones."'

They stopped first at the Mutter Museum which contained various anatomically strange body parts. As Booth had expected, Brennan was fascinated. She stopped at every one to point out the differences between it and its normal counterpart. Booth half-listened, nodding from time to time so that she would know his attention was still on her. And in truth, his attention was on her the entire time. Of course, it was not always on what she was saying; he found his eyes wandering over her full lips, her high cheekbones, her well-endowed. . .

_Stop!_ he told himself before he could go too far. She was describing some cranial anomaly in one of the skulls, and he forced himself to focus on the words. A couple other tourists nearby were also listening to her, fascinated.

"You really know a lot about this," one remarked.

"I'm a forensic anthropologist," she told the man.

"Well, it's very impressive."

Booth felt a surge of pride at his words; impressive did not even begin to describe Bones' vast store of knowledge. "Not really," Brennan remarked. "Any first year grad student in anthropology can tell you all of what I just said and more."

"Uh huh." The guy was paying a little too much attention to Brennan for Booth's liking, and he stepped toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist in a gesture of possessiveness he was sure to hear about later.

"Maybe we should go onto the next exhibit, huh, Bones?" he suggested. "There's a giant skeleton. You should like that." Brennan surprisingly went with him as he steered her toward the other exhibit and immediately launched into a discussion about the seven and a half foot skeleton on display.

By the time they came to the end of the museum, they had a crowd of people following them, all listening to Brennan's explanations of the various exhibits. As they were about to leave, one man finally recognized Brennan from her books, and most of the group descended on her for autographs. It took another fifteen minutes for the crowd to disperse so that they could exit the museum. "Whattya think, Bones?" Booth questioned as they climbed into his SUV.

"It was a fascinating museum," Brennan told him, causing him to smile.

"Just you wait. The best is yet to come."

They stopped next to see the Masonic Temple, a tour which took a little under two hours. Booth could tell Brennan was enjoying herself; he saw the sparkle in her brilliant blue eyes and the small smile that lit up her face as she walked along. He loved that smile more than any of the larger ones he had seen, for it was genuine. It was not something that she had pasted on but rather one that had been caused by true happiness. And nothing could make Booth happier than seeing his Bones happy.

After the Masonic Temple, Booth and Brennan slowly ambled back to the car, Booth's arm again around her waist. He was sure she would object to its presence there, for there was currently no one around for them to fool. But she said nothing; instead, she simply continued walking as if it was perfectly natural for his arm to encircle her waist. They could not write this gesture off as an act, something to convince others that they were married. But he did not feel like analyzing what that arm meant. Analyzing was her job; he was content to simply feel, content to know that he was happier than he had been in awhile with his arm securely around Brennan's waist. And he did not care about the implications of that statement.

The drive to Booth's final destination took around forty-five minutes. Most of it was spent in silence broken only by the clicking of the keys on Brennan's keyboard as she worked on her book. Booth took the chance to glance at her from time to time, admiring her intense concentration. She stared resolutely at the computer screen, her head slightly tilted and her lips pressed together as she contemplated what to write. The sun slanted in through the windshield, casting a glow off her face that made it appear luminescent, and Booth did not think he had ever seen anything more beautiful. Of course, he often had that feeling when he saw Bones.

When they finally pulled off the road, Brennan exited the car, her face contorted in confusion. "Where are we?" she questioned, glancing around at the grove of trees which surrounded the SUV.

"About a five-minute walk from the Delaware River," Booth announced, walking to the trunk of the car and opening it. He pulled out a bag and dug through it for a minute before tossing a swimsuit to Brennan. She caught it easily, staring at him questioningly.

"We're going swimming?" she inquired.

"Not exactly. Put that on."

Brennan glanced around but saw no signs of any sort of structure. "Where?"

"In the SUV," Booth answered simply, pulling out a pair of swim trunks for himself.

"The SUV?"

Booth sighed. Of all times for Brennan to suddenly become modest, she had to pick now. "Yes, the SUV. The back windows are tinted. Besides, I'm the only person around, and I promise not to watch." To prove his point, he turned, facing his back to the SUV. Brennan looked at him for a moment longer before opening the door and climbing into the SUV.

When she emerged, she was wearing a red one piece. Though it covered more than many women's bathing suits, it still revealed a good deal more of her body than he was used to seeing. He swallowed hard before answering her unasked question. "I, uh, forgot my toothpaste," he explained, averting his eyes from her body. "I was going to borrow some from you, but when I was digging through your bag, I found this buried there."

"I must have left it in there after my last trip," she mused.

"Yeah. Let me go get changed, and then we'll get going." He quickly entered the SUV before he could think too much more about Brennan in a bathing suit.

When he emerged, he was wearing a pair of bright green and blue patterned swimming trunks. He grinned at Bones and tossed her sunscreen from the bag. As she rubbed the cream into her skin, he walked to the back of the car again and pulled out two donut-shaped pieces of rubber. Brennan watched him curiously as he raised one to his mouth and began to inflate it.

"Inner tubes?" she inquired.

"Yep," he said, pausing his inflation of the rubber object briefly. "When I was a kid, I used to come out here with my friends all the time, and we'd go tubing. It's a lot of fun. I bought these a couple weeks ago so that I could take Parker sometime, but I forgot about them until I found that bathing suit in your suitcase."

"Isn't the water cold?" Brennan questioned.

"A little, but not too bad. Trust me, it's a lot of fun." He returned to inflating the inner tubes, and she watched him for a few minutes, noting that he had no trouble inflating both of them. Obviously, he was in great cardiovascular health; of course, Brennan had learned that that morning during their run. She thought she was in good shape, but she found herself panting to keep up with Booth's pace, and she could tell he was holding back a little. She told herself she only lagged behind because he had longer legs, which was likely true, but it was a pleasant change to find someone who was her equal or better physically. She could usually outrun most people except the most dedicated athletes, for she kept herself in top physical condition. Of course, Booth also did if his chiseled chest was any indication.

When the tubes were inflated, he passed one to her and took the other and his pack, leading the way down a fairly steep slope to the river. On the way down, he continuously turned around to offer her a hand on the more difficult parts of the descent, but she consistently refused, and he eventually sighed and gave up. When they reached the river, he stopped and looked back at her as she sidestepped a final rock and joined him. The river was fairly wide at the point where they stood, so it was flowing fairly slowly. Bending over, Booth placed the tube in the water and sat down in it, allowing his long legs to dangle over the side in the water. "Come on in, Bones, the water's great!" he called. She hesitated for a moment before copying his example, also sitting down in her tube. He reached out his hand, and she did not even hesitate before also reaching out, linking their fingers together. "We wouldn't want to get separated as we go, would we?" he asked, making excuses for their increased intimacy. In truth, he was trying to ignore the shiver that even the slight contact of their hands clasped together caused to travel down his spine.

"No, we wouldn't," she agreed softly.

They floated in silence for a little while. The sun was beginning to set, and Booth watched the colors spread out across the sky with a small smile. "Don't you just love to lay back and watch the sunset, Bones?" he asked.

"I don't usually get a chance to watch the sunset," she told him. "There's too much work to be done."

"You work too much," he chided gently. She did not respond, and silence fell over them for a few seconds. "We used to watch the sunset all the time in the army," Booth finally remarked. "Sometimes, we would be marching, but other times, we would be waiting. Just sitting there, half-hoping that your target will emerge soon so you can finish you mission and go back to camp, but also hoping that he will never emerge because that means you never have to take that shot, never have to take a life." He paused briefly, biting his lip as he attempted to keep his emotions under control. Brennan squeezed his hand, and he turned to give her a grateful smile. She was truly an amazing woman. No matter what the outside world saw, he saw the true Temperance Brennan. He saw how large her heart was, saw how she cared so much sometimes that it hurt and caused her to close herself off, thus earning her the reputation of being cold and distant. He was one of the few people who had the privilege of seeing that that description did not fit her in the slightest.

"I never really told you about my childhood or my time in the army," Booth continued. In fact, he had never really told anyone about either thing. He had never before felt that there was anyone in whom he could confide. But Brennan was different; he knew she would understand. And this knowledge gave him the confidence to continue. "My dad was an alcoholic," he said, feeling a second squeeze, "and abusive. My mother was a quiet woman; she never really did anything to stop him, probably because she was too afraid of him. I tried to protect her and my younger brother, Jared, and I usually succeeded, but it meant I took the brunt of his anger. It didn't really matter much; I was a pretty tough kid, and I could handle a few scrapes and bruises. They were hard to explain to my teachers and friends, but I got good at covering them up. By high school, I was averaging about two or three beatings a week, less if I could convince him to drink until he passed out. I came up with a game; I would recite the names and numbers of every sports player I knew. It took my mind off the pain, made it easier to endure. By the time I graduated, I think I had the roster for most major sports teams memorized.

I thought about running away multiple times and almost did a couple. But I had my mom and Jared; I couldn't just leave them. I also tried to convince my mom to take Jared and come with me, but she kept telling me that it wasn't that bad, that he didn't mean it. She loved him, even when she was black and blue because he got mad at her for something stupid like slightly overcooking his food. I never understood it.

I think the only thing which kept me sane during that time was my grandfather. He was my refuge when it got to be too much for me to deal with. I know he tried to talk reason into my dad, but even he couldn't. And so that's how we lived, all three of us constantly in fear of my dad. I honestly thought about killing him once or twice; after all, that would solve all of our problems. But he was still my dad. I couldn't bring myself to do it. And so I let myself be beaten.

I remember one of the worst ones. I was probably about twelve or thirteen, and he came back from the bar completely smashed. Jared had been reading some comic book earlier, and he had left it out on the coffee table. I should've caught it; I knew that it would set Dad off. By this time, I had gotten pretty good at keeping his attention off of all of us. But I had missed the comic book. Of course, my dad saw it immediately and got really angry because it was not in its 'proper place.' Ha. Like he ever put anything in its proper place.

Anyway, he demanded to know whose it was. Jared was cowering in a chair; I couldn't let him take the fall; he was my little brother, and it was my job to protect him. So I told Dad the book belonged to me. He ripped it up in front of me, and I thought that maybe that would be it. But then he grabbed my shirt and threw me to the side. I was only twelve, so he could throw me with quite a bit of force. I slammed against a wall; I think I might have had a minor concussion. But of course, Dad wasn't done with me yet. He forced me to my feet, and I stumbled up, trying to stand tall. I wanted to show him that I was strong. I had been working out a lot recently and had a couple of my friends teaching me how to fight, so I fancied myself a hero. I decided I had had enough and tried to take a swing at him. Unfortunately, I was still twelve, and he was still a lot bigger than me. He just grabbed my fist and wrenched my arm behind me until I thought something was breaking. Then he picked up a beer bottle and smashed it over my head. I was lucky; it shattered and cut up my face a little bit, but it didn't kill me. Didn't even knock me out actually. On second thought, I'm not sure how lucky that was. I might have been better off unconscious.

So there I was, blood streaming down my face, my arm still twisted behind my back and my head still pounding. He released me, and I thought he was done. Once he drew blood, he usually let me go. But not this time. No, this time he came after me with the bottle that he broke earlier. He got my arm and my side before I finally managed to knock the bottle out of his hand. After that, he threw me against the table. My vision was going black, but I was still fighting to stay conscious. He punched me a few more times before standing up and kicking my side where he had slashed me with the bottle earlier. Then he picked me up and threw me out of the room. I somehow managed to stumble up to my room, and my mom came in a little later to clean me up. It was the only acknowledgement she ever really made about what he did—she would come to clean us up after some of his more violent fits. I told people the next day that I had run into a bunch of barbed wire while trying to jump a fence. I doubt anyone believed me, but they let it go." Here, he paused again, frowning as he remembered.

"It's okay, Booth. You don't have to tell me," Brennan assured him.

He shook his head violently. "No, Bones, I want to tell you. You're my partner. You need to know this." He took a deep breath. "When I was seventeen, my grandfather died. I told you before that he was my only refuge from my father; well, once he was gone, I really did not know what to do. I had no direction. My grades were decent, and I was good at sports, and I had some offers to play at some pretty good colleges. But that didn't appeal to me.

My grandfather was in the Army. And so since I worshipped him, the Army seemed like the logical place for me. Basic training was pretty easy; I was in good shape already from all the sports I played in high school. They soon figured out that I was a natural at shooting and so I found myself training to be in the Rangers. I didn't mind; I was eighteen, and being in an elite special corps appealed to me. I was sent into combat less than two weeks after training finished. Within my first two months, I had killed eighteen people. I had been shot at five times and had sustained one bullet wound though it was just a graze on my shoulder. But I was eighteen and still believed myself to be indestructible, so I just kept going. My first tour ended, and I signed up for another. I didn't know anything else, didn't have anywhere else to be. I certainly wasn't going back home. As far as I knew, the Army was home.

It was during my second tour that everything went to hell. There was a corporal in my unit. Corporal Teddy Parker. He was killed on my watch, killed while we were trying to take out a target. I told him to get down, but he didn't, and he's dead now because of me."

"It's not your fault, Booth."

"You can't know that." The tears were falling freely now, but Booth did not care. Brennan had seen him at his most vulnerable. If there was anyone who he could let his guard down in front of, it was her.

"Sure I can. I know you. You blame yourself for everything, even when things are not your fault. You said you told him to get down and he didn't."

"But I was so focused on the target that I didn't-"

"Booth, it wasn't your fault."

Booth nodded, swallowing hard. He wished he could believe her, but the memory of that day still haunted him. Clearing his throat, he continued. "I. . . uh. . . carried his body back to the camp. There was nothing we could do. He's buried at Arlington; I still go to visit him every year." Again, he stopped speaking, his eyes downcast. When he started talking again, his voice was weaker. "After that, I was even more determined to continue and finish out my tour. But I refused to work with anyone else, told my commanding officer I worked better alone. He wasn't happy, but he finally agreed, and I went on most missions after that by myself. It was easier that way. One of those missions was General Raddick.

There was one night when our camp was ambushed. Some insurgents started firing on our tents. I never even saw them; I just remember firing into the dark toward where I heard the shots coming from. I had been fired on before, but something about this time was different. I think it was because I couldn't see the enemy. I tried to get closer so that I could aim, but the gunfire kept me back. As I struggled out of my tent, I came across one of my buddies, Sergeant Tyler Prancer. He was lying there, blood pooling from four separate wounds that I could see. But he was still alive; his mouth was moving. And in that moment, I forgot about the people firing at us; all that mattered was that man lying in front of me. I dragged him behind some equipment so that we had some semblance of cover and I tried to put pressure on his wounds, but there were too many of them and he was losing blood too fast. He died in my arms." He sniffed and closed his eyes, trying to reign in his emotions.

"We found out the next day that we had three dead and six wounded. We had killed eight of theirs; I don't know if we wounded any because they all disappeared a few minutes after they started firing. Because of the chaos, I didn't have a chance to change for awhile, so I walked around with Prancer's blood on me for nearly a day before someone finally told me to change. Even then, I don't think I fully comprehended what had just happened. You never get used to it, Bones. Death and destruction surround you, but it's still just as shocking when you see it close up.

One of the last missions before my tour ended involved raiding a warehouse where we believe they were stockpiling weapons. We had the place surrounded; I was supposed to come in from the back. I was waiting by the door for the signal when something hit me from behind. I don't really know what happened next; all I know is that when I woke up, I was chained to a wall in a musty-smelling room. One of the other men from my unit was there with me; he was pretty badly beaten up but still alive. I was trying to wake him up when they came for me.

The first time wasn't that bad. Ask any POW and they'll tell you that they're usually fairly lenient the first time they question you. I had the normal shouting and threats and a few slaps to the face but nothing serious. I refused to give them any information, so they eventually threw me back into the cell.

I waited awhile in there without food or water. The other man with me woke up about halfway into this period, and he was taken away soon after that. He never came back. When they next came for me, I was considerably weaker from my lack of nourishment, and the punishment was considerably harsher. But I survived. I have the scars on my back to show for it. As they were hitting me, I started reciting rosters again. I hadn't done that in awhile, thought that I was done with that stage of my life, but there I was again, forcing myself to ignore the pain. It brought back a lot of bad memories, but I had survived my father for seventeen years, and I was confident I could survive the beatings. And I did.

I was told later that I was captured for a total of twenty-three days, but it felt like much longer. I was brought water maybe a dozen times during that period and barely edible food maybe seven or eight. They tortured me nine more times, still trying to get information. You've seen most of my injuries from that on my feet and back. I still am not exactly sure how I continued to survive. I guess I partly have my father to thank for that; because of him, I learned early on how to take a beating. As far as I was concerned, this was no different.

I'm told that I was barely alive when they raided the warehouse where I was being kept and got me out of there. The other guy with me didn't make it. I spent a good deal of time in the hospital recovering before being honorably discharged from the army. They gave me a Purple Heart for the ordeal, but it didn't change what had happened. That's when I got into gambling."

"You have a Purple Heart?" Brennan questioned.

Booth shrugged. "I have a Silver Star, too."

"What? Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It wasn't important. I received the Silver Star early on during my second tour. We were trying to surround and take out about a dozen enemy forces. There were bullets flying everywhere, so people weren't being as careful as they probably should have been. I saw something larger out of the corner of my eye and realized it was a grenade. A couple men from our unit were headed right toward it, so I broke cover and knocked them out of the way before it went off. We all got cut up some from shrapnel, and one of the men took a stray bullet to the shoulder, but all of us survived. I never thought it was that big of a deal; after all, I was just protecting the people in my unit. But my commanding officer did, and so I was awarded the Silver Star. I never really cared that much about decorations. Sure, they were nice but I don't think they matter much. What matters is what the other people in your unit think of you. What matters is the knowledge that you have each others' backs."

Brennan knew he was likely downplaying his actions as he was wont to do at times. No matter what his belt buckle said, Seeley Booth was at heart a humble man. He was perfectly content to stay in the background, to help people from afar without asking for any credit. His incredible selflessness was one thing which had most caused Brennan to trust him, for she knew he was acting in her best interests.

"I can show it to you sometime if you like," Booth continued.

"That would be nice," Brennan told him, smiling.

"Okay." They spent a few seconds staring at each other before Booth cleared his throat loudly. "Anyway, like I was saying, when I got out of the army, I really didn't have any direction. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life; all I knew is that I didn't want to be in the army any more. I had done my time, and I had the scars, both physical and emotional, to prove it.

So I fell into gambling. It didn't take long for me to bet away most of the money I had saved up from my salary while I was fighting. I didn't really want another job, so I decided to take the army up on their offer to pay for college. I ended up at the Florida Institute of Technology and bounced around majors a little bit before I somehow landed on forensic psychology. I met Rebecca there, and we dated for about eight months before she got pregnant. You know the rest of that story.

Anyway, that was what finally stopped the gambling. There was no way that I could be a good father if I couldn't stop myself from gambling away everything I earned. And so I stopped. I'll always be grateful to Rebecca for that; when she met me, I was at a very difficult point in my life, and she helped me through that. I partly have her to thank for where I am today. Her and Parker.

Parker was born four days before I graduated college. Rebecca had already refused my offer of marriage, but we were still on fairly friendly terms, and she told me right after graduation that she was moving to Washington DC to be closer to her parents. Well, I didn't really know where I was going and since she had my son, I decided to go to DC, too. With my degree and my background in the army, it wasn't hard to get into the FBI Academy, and that pretty much brings me to the point where you came into the picture. So that's my life in a nutshell."

"Wow," Brennan breathed. "You've certainly had an exciting life."

"Too exciting at times." Booth pushed himself up into a semi-seated position, balancing precariously in the tube. "We should probably go to shore soon and start heading back before we get too far."

"Okay," Brennan began to paddle back to shore, and the two were soon shaking water off their inner tubes. Booth opened the backpack he had brought with him and tossed a pair of his sweatpants and an old gray t-shirt to Brennan.

"That should keep you warm while we hike back," he told her, already donning similar clothing. She nodded, quickly pulling on the clothes. The pants were way too large for her; she had to pull the drawstring as tight as it would go and could still fit her whole hand between the waist band and her body. She bent over to roll up the cuffs, and when she straightened, she noticed Booth staring at her. She did not exactly blame him; she knew she must make a comical sight. But the expression in his eyes did not seem very humorous.

"You look good wearing my clothes," he blurted out suddenly before his face went red. _Shit, did I really just say that?_ he asked himself. _There's no way she's going to let that one slide. I'm a dead man._ He stood, cursing his traitorous lips as he prepared himself for the blow, but one never came.

Instead, Brennan simply said, "Thanks," before looping the inner tube over her shoulder and starting back toward the car. Booth watched her go for a moment, still in shock. When he recovered, he hurried to catch up to her, clicking on his flashlight to illuminate any potential tripping hazards. His hand moved to the small of her back as they walked together through the cool forest.

After a few minutes of quiet, Brennan said suddenly, "When I was sixteen, one of my foster fathers raped me." Booth stopped abruptly, his mouth dropping open in astonishment. _Where the hell had that come from?_ Brennan stopped, too, turning to face him. "Booth?" she asked. He did not answer. "Booth?" she called again, louder this time. Finally, he seemed to snap out of his trance.

"That's a hell of a bomb to drop," Booth remarked, trying to keep his tone even.

"I just thought that since you were sharing your traumatic childhood experiences, I should share mine," Brennan said quietly.

_Of course. Trust Bones to bring logic into this. _Most people listening to her as she spoke about the experience would assume that it had not affected her, but Booth knew better. He heard the slight waver in her voice, saw the despair in her eyes. The event had affected her, affected her deeply as was only natural. She was simply trying not to let it show, trying to prove that she was strong and could handle anything. And anyone else would have been fooled. But Booth knew her too well to fall for her ruse. "I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to share them with me, Bones, but I'm honestly still a bit in shock here."

"It was the third family I was with." Her voice was still quiet, a sure indication that the memories were painful for her. Booth moved his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him in a gesture of comfort. "The social worker told me that maybe I should try a little harder so I didn't get bounced around so much, so I did try. I did."

"I believe you, Bones," he assured her firmly.

"Anyway, it was about midnight one night. I had already gone to bed because I had school the next day. I heard the door open and footsteps coming toward my bed. I got up, thinking it was an intruder, but I relaxed some when I realized it was just my foster father." She took a deep breath. "I should have known then what he was about to do. I mean, there was no other reason for him to be in my room at midnight. But I didn't do anything, not until he reached out and clamped a hand over my mouth. And by then, it was too late. I tried to struggle, but he was bigger and stronger than me. I tried biting his hand, but he just replaced it with a gag. I had no time to scream, no time to really react before he had my hands tied to the bedpost and his hands on my body." She shivered involuntarily, and Booth brought her closer to his body. Within seconds, she had relaxed. It was amazing how no matter what she was feeling, Booth could always comfort her. She always felt secure in his arms. Around him, she could let herself relax because she trusted him completely.

"I'm pretty sure you can guess the rest of that story," Brennan said, watching as Booth's face hardened, a sure indication that he was guessing it and certainly was not happy about the pictures in his head. "Anyway, I went to the social worker the next day, but she just told me I was being overly-dramatic. This couple had had numerous foster kids over the years without a complaint. And I was the outcast, the girl who wouldn't fit into any family. Of course they didn't believe me."

Brennan looked down at the flashlight beam which illuminated the ground a few feet in front of them. That was what had always bugged her the most. Sure, memories of the events of that night still caused her blood to boil, but what she absolutely hated was that she was not believed. She was telling the truth, but no one would listen. Since she had tried to report the event to the social worker, she had actually not told anyone else for fear of facing the same ridicule. Anyone else, that is, until Booth. Because she knew he would not ridicule her, knew he would believe her when she told her story. He was her one confidante, the person on whom she knew she could always rely. It was nice to have someone like that.

"What was his name?" Booth was livid now; Brennan could tell from the firm set of his jaw and the blaze in his normally warm chocolate eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Booth."

"It matters to me. No one should be able to do that and get away without punishment. Was he ever prosecuted?"

Brennan shook her head slowly. "When the social worker didn't believe me, I decided I wouldn't ever tell anyone else."

"Bones, you need to tell. If not for yourself, think about any other girls he might foster. The same thing could happen to them."

"He never had a chance. His wife left him about a month later, and they're not too keen on letting single men foster. I was moved to a new home, and he never fostered kids again."

"But there could still be other victims out there. What about them? If you never come forward, they won't either, and this guy will never pay for what he did."

"The statute of limitations is up, Booth. They'd never prosecute even if all of us did come forward. I just take comfort in the fact that he'll never do it again."

"Don't you want justice?"

"His wife left him with virtually no money struggling just to stay alive. I'd say that's justice enough. Besides, there was no way I could get any type of legal justice. If the case even made it to court, I'd just be made to look like the socially maladjusted foster child who is trying to get attention."

"Bones, it isn't right that he gets away with this."

"There's a lot in this world that isn't right, Booth. You can't fix it all."

"But I can sure try. And when it comes to you, I intend to succeed. I never want to let anyone hurt you, Bones. And whoever does should pay."

"Revenge never gets us anywhere, Booth."

"It certainly makes me feel better."

"Booth, please just let it go. That's all the past."

He studied her for a moment in the dim light of the moonlight. She was a strong woman—too strong sometimes. She often shut the rest of the world out, determined to rely only on herself. He was only beginning to crack through her tough exterior, breaking down the barriers she had erected long before. He was only beginning to understand why she erected those barriers. She had been hurt time and time again in the past, but she was absolutely right—nothing he could do now to punish the people who had hurt her could change that. But it would certainly make him feel better. "Fine," he agreed.

"You're going to try to look him up as soon as we get home, aren't you?" Brennan questioned, her eyes narrowed. He made no response, and she interpreted his silence (correctly) as a yes. "Booth, this doesn't concern you. Please stay out of it."

"If it concerns you, it concerns me. We're partners, we look out for each other. And even if the state of Maryland has a statute of limitations on rape, I certainly don't."

"Just be careful, Booth. Don't do anything which could cost you your job. I-" Her voice cracked, and she paused for a moment before continuing. "I need you."

Booth looked to her, his eyes registering surprise. He had never before heard Brennan admit that she needed anything. But as he looked at her standing beside him, so close he could feel the heat from her body and smell the scent of her shampoo, he could not deny her anything. She looked vulnerable standing before him, silhouetted by the moonlight. The last time he had seen her look like that, he was pulling her from a car buried beneath the sand in the desert. "Okay, Bones," he agreed, squeezing her to his side. "I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

By the time they made it back to the car, it was nearly completely dark. Booth drove them back to the hotel, and they showered and changed before walking to a nearby restaurant for a late dinner. They did not talk anymore about the horrors in their pasts during dinner, choosing instead to focus on Parker's latest exploits and what was happening at the lab. When the waitress brought the check, Brennan reached for it, but Booth pushed her hand away. "You're doing me a favor by coming on this trip, Bones. It's my treat," he told her, opening the folder to glance at the bill.

"I actually don't mind too much. It's been fun," Brennan told him. He looked up from the bill to grin at her, and she continued before he said, "I told you so." "So it doesn't feel right to let you pay for all my meals."

"Don't worry about it, Bones. Tell you what, when we get back to DC, you can pick up lunch a couple times, okay?" He pulled his credit card out of his pocket and slid it in with the bill before holding it out for the waitress. Brennan sighed.

As they waited for the waitress to return with his card, Booth said, "Hey, so Shriner mentioned earlier that a bunch of people from the reunion are meeting up at a local bar tonight. I was wondering if you wanted to go."

Brennan thought for a moment before shrugging. "Sure. Why not?"

"Great." The waitress returned, and Booth thanked her with a smile. After adding a tip to the receipt, he returned his credit card to his wallet and stood. Brennan followed suit, and they walked out of the restaurant with his hand on her back.

The bar where they were meeting the other alumni was fairly crowded when Booth and Brennan walked through the door. Brennan glanced around at the people lounging at various tables or playing pool in a dimly lit corner of the room. Before she could make a complete sweep of the room with her eyes, a high-pitched voice called "Seeley!" Brennan felt Booth cringe beside her.

"What's wrong?" she inquired.

"Nothing," he said too quickly. Brennan wanted to question him further, but a blond woman in her early thirties had joined them.

"Seeley, it's been too long," the woman cried before throwing her arms around Booth who returned the hug half-heartedly. When Booth pulled away, the woman turned to Brennan and extended a skinny arm. "Janet Howell," she introduced.

"Temperance B-ooth." Brennan stumbled a bit over the last name. When she said it, she saw a wide smile spread over Booth's face, and he moved his hand from her back to her waist where it seemed to end up more and more often.

Luckily, Janet did not notice Brennan's slip. "Oh, so Seeley finally settled down?"

"I certainly did," Booth answered, pulling Brennan even closer.

"That's good." Even Brennan could tell that the woman's smile was false. "Why don't you come over and join us? The rest of the gang's already here." She led them to the corner where a number of people sat, some at the bar and some at three tables that had been pushed together. Brennan recognized a few of them from the reunion.

"Seeley, we missed you today," Tasha remarked, seeing them.

"I had some other things I wanted to show Tempe," he explained.

"You will be at dinner tomorrow, right?" Tasha questioned.

Booth looked at Brennan who gave an almost imperceptible shrug. "Sure, we'll be there," he agreed. Tasha's grin widened.

"Great!" she exclaimed. "Come on, we've got plenty of food, and the waitress should be by soon so you can get whatever you want to drink."

They spent a few minutes talking with the other members of the group before Shriner remarked, "Hey, still think you're the king of pool?"

"I could take you any day," Booth informed the other man.

"Care to prove it?" Shriner gestured to an open pool table in the corner.

"You're on." Booth stood. As his arm slipped from around Brennan's waist, where it had rested all night, he saw the panic cross her face. She had never been great in social situations, and he knew that being placed in a situation where she was forced to interact with a bunch of people she had just met frightened her. "Hey, how about we play doubles?" Booth suggested. "I'll be with Tempe."

"Sure. Miller, feel like playing?" Shriner asked another man.

"Sounds good," Miller agreed.

"Tempe?" Booth looked down at Brennan.

"I don't know how to play pool," she told him.

"Doesn't matter. I'll teach you." He held out a hand, and, after a moment's hesitation, she took it, standing and following him to the pool table.

It soon became clear that Booth was very good at pool. A game of rock, paper, scissors gave him the chance to break, and he managed to sink a ball on his first shot. He proceeded to sink two more before missing. Shriner sank two of his own balls before missing, putting Booth in the lead. The eyes of all three men at the table went to Brennan who stood to one side, awkwardly holding her pool cue.

"Here, Tempe," Booth said, taking the cue gently from her and stepping behind her. Wrapping his arms around her, he guided her hands to the correct positions on the cue, giving instructions as he went. Brennan tried hard to focus on his instructions and not the warmth of his body pressed against hers or the way his breath tickled her neck, but she was finding it harder and harder to hear what he was saying. She did not know why she was reacting as she was; sure, Booth was a good-looking man, but they were partners. There was a line, a line that they were dangerously close to crossing. She was no longer sure if that would be a bad thing.

She was brought out of her thoughts by Booth pushing her gently toward the table, his body still wrapped around hers. Carefully, he brought her hands down, showing her the proper way to use the cue. "From here, it's all geometry," he said, smiling. She nodded, forcing herself to forget about the way he made her feel as she focused on the layout of the balls in front of her. He was right; it was simply geometry with a little bit of physics thrown in. Those were two things she knew, two things with which she was comfortable. Lining up her shot, she brought the cue back, ready to hit the ball. "Careful, Tempe, you don't want to hit it too hard," Booth whispered in her ear. She nodded, adjusting the cue slightly before bringing it forward. It hid the ball squarely in the center, sending it toward a solid-colored ball not too far away. Unfortunately, Brennan had not lined up the shot exactly right, and the solid-colored ball rolled slightly to the left of the pocket. "Don't worry, Tempe, you'll get it next time," Booth assured her, finally releasing her. Brennan felt a slight chill once the warmth of his body was gone, but she dismissed this as nothing more than a draft.

For the rest of the game, Booth continued to "help" Brennan. Normally, Brennan would have shaken him off quickly, but she found that she enjoyed having his arms around her more than she would like to admit, and the game gave a convenient excuse for them to be there. He stood slightly farther away from her after that first shot, and when she tried to lean back against him, he jumped away quickly. Thinking she had done something wrong, Brennan started to move from his arms, but he held her there, their bodies close but not touching.

Brennan and Booth won the first game, and Shriner called a rematch which he and Miller won. Booth seemed somewhat distracted during the game; his shots were slightly more erratic than usual, and he sank fewer balls. When they played the third tie-breaker game, Booth let Brennan shoot on her own, and she managed to sink two balls. Booth's excellent aim had returned, and they won the game easily. As they were walking back toward the rest of the group, Brennan turned to Booth. "What was wrong with you back there?" she inquired.

"Wrong?"

"During the second game. You weren't playing as well as you usually did."

"Oh, uh. . . . my mind just wasn't on the game."

"What were you thinking about?"

He reddened. "Nothing in particular."

Fortunately, he was saved from further conversation by Janet who called his name, motioning to the seat next to her. Eager for any excuse to escape from the questioning, Booth walked over to the woman, Brennan following behind. He took a seat at the barstool Janet had indicated, and Brennan slid onto the one next to him. Catching the attention of the bartender, Booth ordered a drink for both him and Brennan. She did not object to him ordering for her this time because, as usual, he had ordered exactly what she had wanted. Instead, she turned, listening to his conversation with Janet.

"It's been a long time, Seeley," Janet was saying. Even though Brennan was not good at reading people, she could tell Janet was flirting by the way she said Booth's first name and the way she had moved her barstool so that she was practically on top of him. He moved his stool toward Brennan slightly before responding.

"It has." The bartender set a beer in front of him and a glass in front of Brennan. Booth nodded in thanks before twisting off the cap and taking a long sip.

"You still play pool like a pro."

"Not like a pro. But I can hold my own," he corrected.

"You know, I never really knew why I let you go," Janet mused, raising her drink to her lips. Brennan's eyebrows rose. The woman had some nerve, blatantly flirting with Booth right in front of her while she was supposed to be his wife. Of course, she was not _actually _his wife, but she still felt an inexplicable twinge of jealousy as she watched the other woman sidling up to him. She was about to intervene when Booth wrapped an arm around her.

"I'm not sure either, Janet, but I'm glad you did or I never would have met Tempe," Booth said. Janet's wide false smile returned as she moved away slightly.

"I guess that's true," she remarked.

"So I guess I should thank you, Janet, for helping me indirectly to find one of the most wonderful things in my life." Booth turned and placed a quick kiss to Brennan's temple. It was a simple gesture, one she had bestowed upon him a couple times, but he had never done the same for her. She felt a tingling sensation where his lips had touched and wondered briefly what it would feel like to have his lips on her own. Before she could carry these thoughts too far, however, she pushed them to the back of her mind, focusing instead on the conversation.

Janet made small talk for awhile longer before another man caught her eye. When she left, Booth turned back to Brennan, pulling her tighter against him. "Sorry about that. I'm still not sure why I dated her."

"Well, her features are fairly symmetrical, and she has a body type that many men would find attractive. Also,-"

Booth held up a hand to stop the stream of words pouring from her mouth. "Okay, Bones, I get it. But she's one of the least interesting people I've ever met."

They played a couple more games of pool and chatted with a couple old football buddies of Booth's before Kristina cornered them. "I finally figured out where I recognized you from," she said, pointing at Brennan.

"Oh?"

"You're Temperance Brennan, the author of those books!"

"I am," Brennan confirmed.

"Oh, that's so wonderful! I've never met a real famous person before. What's it like?"

"What's what like?" Brennan questioned, confused. Her eyes found Booth's, silently pleading for him to help her out of the conversation.

"Being famous? What's it like to have people recognize you on the street and stuff?"

"It actually starts to get bothersome after awhile," Brennan said with her usual bluntness. Unfortunately, this did not deter the woman who continued to ask questions until Booth finally came to her rescue by challenging Brennan to a game of pool. As they approached the table, Brennan said, "You could have helped out earlier, you know."

"The table wasn't free until just now," he told her simply as he began to rack the balls. In truth, he had simply been enjoying watching her grow increasingly uncomfortable, but he would never say this to her. Not if he valued his life.

Booth won the game though it was close. As they were putting everything away afterwards, Brennan said, "You didn't play to your full potential."

"What are you talking about, Bones?" Booth asked, avoiding her eyes.

"I am not five, Booth. You don't have to play badly just so I can win."

"It made the game more exciting, Bones."

"But-"

"Just let it go, Bones." They had reached the group by this time. Unfortunately, Kristina had mentioned Brennan's second career to everyone else in the group, and she was inundated by requests for autographs and questions about her life. This time, Booth wasted no time in rescuing her from his nosy classmates, making an excuse about the lateness of the hour as he steered her from the bar.

"Sorry about that," he apologized when they reached the hotel.

"It's okay," Brennan assured him. "I suppose I should be accustomed to it by now, but it still surprises me when people recognize me from my books."

"Feel like watching some television before bed?"

"Actually, I need to work on my book. I didn't completely lie to Angela; my publisher does want the rest of my next book soon."

"Have fun."

Both of them ended up sleeping in the bed again that night. They never talked about it; it simply happened as if by some unspoken agreement. Brennan curled up on the right side, leaving more than half the bed for Booth to lay down on. As soon as he had slipped off his pants, he tucked himself under the covers beside her.


	7. Chapter 7

Though she started out on her side facing away from him and he fell asleep on his back with a good foot at least separating their bodies, they still managed to move together during the night. It was an unconscious move on both their parts, for when Brennan awoke the following morning, she found herself in the middle of the bed, curled up against Booth who once again had an arm slung around her waist. It was odd for her to wake up in that particular position, for on the rare occasion that she did share her bed with a man for an entire night, she rarely ever snuggled with him. Of course, on most occasions, after both she and her partner had satisfied their biological urges, one of them would leave. She did not want intimacy, and sharing a bed for an entire night was much too intimate for her.

But she had discovered she actually enjoyed sharing a bed with Booth. It was a pleasant experience to wake up with his arm around her waist. Its presence made her feel safe and protected, and it chased away the demons that often haunted her during the night. She did not know why her body would subconsciously move closer to him in sleep, but she certainly did not object to the consequences of this action.

Still only halfway awake, Brennan stretched, her actions bringing her closer to Booth's body behind her. He immediately stiffened and pulled away, removing his arm from her waist. "Booth?" she inquired, wondering what she had done wrong.

"Morning, Bones," he said somewhat gruffly. She turned to find that he had rolled onto his side so that he was facing away from her.

"Something wrong?"

"Nope, everything's all right here," he told her.

"Then why aren't you looking at me?"

He sighed, pulling the covers to his chin before turning to face her. "Better?"

She nodded, her eyes tracing the slight stubble which covered his chin and finally coming to rest on his lips. She was tempted to kiss him. She did not know what brought on the sudden urge, but she was finding it harder and harder not to lean forward and close the gap between them. As much as she tried to tell herself that he was her partner, she could not stop herself from wondering what it would be like to feel his lips against hers and his hands caressing her body.

"Are you going running again this morning?" she inquired, trying to derail her thoughts before she did something she would later regret.

"Sure. We don't really have anywhere in particular to be. I was thinking we could stay in this morning and do a little more sightseeing this afternoon before the dinner tonight," he said.

"That would be good. I could finish my book."

He nodded. "Okay, let me put on some clothes, and we can go."

The day passed quickly for the two of them. Brennan managed to finish the rest of her manuscript that morning, and they had a late lunch before Booth took her to a couple other tourist spots. It was the first time she had relaxed in awhile and took the time to think about something other than work, and she had to admit, she enjoyed it. As much as she loved her work, it was nice to step away for a little bit, to spend some time away from rotting corpses and flesh-eating beetles. Work was her life, but it didn't have to consume all her time. And with Booth's help, she was slowly learning this fact.

Thoughts of Booth caused her to turn and look at the agent. He was standing a short distance away in the park, laughing as he recalled the time he and one of his childhood friends had decided to see who could swing the highest. He was dressed casually in a well-fitted black t-shirt and blue jeans with his favorite pair of old, worn-out sneakers. The slight breeze pushed his hair to the side, giving it an unruly appearance that Brennan found oddly attractive. Seeing that she was watching him, his grin widened, and he moved closer to her, leaning in so that their noses were almost touching. "What do you say, Bones? Think you can swing higher than me?"

"Booth, I doubt those swings will hold our weight."

"Sure they will, Bones. Live a little." He started toward the swings, and she followed him with a sigh, seating herself on one of them. Since it was early evening, many kids had gone home for dinner, so Booth and Brennan had the playground equipment mostly to themselves. "Ready, Bones?" he asked. She nodded. "Go." Pulling herself back, she released the swing, moving in a smooth arc. Extending her legs, she began to pump, and the rhythm quickly came back to her, allowing her to swing higher and higher. As she continued to swing, she suddenly remembered similar competitions with Russ as a kid, and the thought caused her to break into a smile which eventually turned into a carefree laugh. It was the first time she had felt truly carefree in awhile.

"Okay, Bones, now we're going to jump off!" Booth called.

"Booth, we could hurt ourselves!"

"Trust me, Bones, we'll be fine. On the count of three, okay? One, two, three!" he called right as both of them reached the top of their swings. He immediately went flying off, his long legs flailing beneath him. Brennan hesitated only a fraction of a second before following him. Despite her feelings on the activity, she truly did trust him. Even enough to jump off a swing ten feet in the air.

Booth landed awkwardly on the sand, his legs collapsing beneath him so that he was lying on his back, and Brennan fell on top of him. They were both laughing by this time, and any passerbys would probably think they were crazy. But neither one cared. They were too lost in the moment and in each other to think twice about how they must look to anyone else.

Booth managed to roll them both over and raised himself up on his elbows above her, effectively pinning Brennan to the ground beneath him. She looked up at him hovering above her, a smile still playing at her lips. They were close, so close that if he moved just a few centimeters downwards, their lips would finally be touching, and he would have an idea of what it would be like to kiss the famous Dr. Temperance Brennan. Their legs were tangled together, and his hands framed her upper torso. He longed to simply close the gap, to bring his lips to hers, consequences be damned. Still, he hesitated. He was treading on uncertain ground now. Brennan was his partner, and he had discovered in the past that workplace relationships rarely worked out.

Despite his misgivings, however, he had a feeling that if anything were to happen between Brennan and him, it would work out. They were too good as partners and friends for it not to. Romance would simply add a new dimension to their relationship, a dimension he was finally willing to admit to himself that he was eager to explore. Their eyes locked, his questioning, silently asking her if it was okay to continue. In answer, she raised her head slightly off the ground. It was all the encouragement he needed. Without a second thought, he lowered his head, bringing his lips crashing down on hers.


	8. Chapter 8

The kiss was everything a first kiss should be and so much more. Gone was the awkwardness from the mistletoe kiss. This time, there was no puckish prosecutor watching them while she counted steamboats. And this time, they were finally at a point in their relationship where the kiss simply felt right. They had spent over three years cultivating their friendship, three years getting to know each other and coming to trust one another. It might have felt like it took forever to reach the point at which they were currently, but it was where they needed to be. If the kiss had happened earlier, it would not have been the same.

As it was, Booth did not just feel fireworks—he felt a whole parade, complete with marching bands and elaborate floats. And of course, there were fireworks; he could practically see the brilliant colors exploding in front of his eyes, so close it almost felt as if he were floating in the air right in front of them. The kiss started slow as both adjusted to the unfamiliar territory, but before he had a chance to truly process what he was doing, Booth's hand was on her shoulder blades, pulling her closer as her hands tangled in his windswept hair. Her lips were soft, and he quickly found himself lost in the sensation of the kiss.

For her part, Brennan was having difficulty forming any rational thought (an extremely rare occurrence). She could no longer suppress or deny the existence of the emotions which raced through her body, causing her to wrap her arms tightly around Booth's neck, pulling him closer to her. For some reason, having him in her arms with their lips pressed tightly together felt so. . . _right. _She could not explain why, and for once, she did not care. All that mattered was that she keep him there as long as possible.

Eventually, the need for oxygen separated them. Booth pulled away slowly, remaining supported on his arms just above Brennan. She opened her mouth, but he placed a finger to her lips. "Don't say anything, Bones," he told her softly. "Don't try to rationalize this or analyze it. For once, just let yourself feel."

"But-"

He pressed his finger more firmly against her lips. "Nope. No buts. Just feel."

In response, she raised her torso off the ground, pressing her lips to his again. He let himself become lost in the kiss for a minute or so before they again separated, both wearing silly grins. "Is that enough feeling for you?" Brennan inquired.

"Plenty." Booth pushed himself into a crouched position and stood, reaching down to help her off the ground. Surprisingly, she accepted the hand, pulling herself up. When she stood beside him, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, reveling in his ability to do so freely now.

"So I guess we're not worrying about the line anymore?" Brennan asked.

"Yep. As far as I'm concerned, the line is gone, kaput, obliterated, wiped out, destroyed. . ." he trailed off as he ran out of synonyms.

"Eliminated, eradicated, annihilated?" Brennan suggested with a small smile.

"Exactly. We've been more than partners for awhile now, Bones. It's time we finally let ourselves accept that."

"But what about our partnership?"

"What about it? If you ask me, it could only be strengthened by a romantic relationship. You want to know the truth, Bones? I haven't been in a relationship with anyone since Cam. Why? Because I can't imagine myself with anyone but you. No one challenges me like you do, no one knows me like you, no one complements me like you do. There are a thousand reasons why this will work."

"What if it doesn't?"

"Life is filled with what if's, Bones. If you didn't do something just because you didn't know what the exact outcome of it would be, you'd never do anything. Take a chance. Trust me, it'll be one of the best experiences of your life."

"You can't know that."

"I can. Just follow your heart."

"I've never been very good at that."

"That's why I'm here. What do you say, Bones? Will you give it a chance?" He held out a hand. She paused for a moment before reaching out, entwining her fingers with his.

"One should never discount a valid hypothesis without experimenting," she declared. Booth chuckled.

"Which is the squinty way of saying that you, too, know this will work."

"Logically, given how well we work together in the workplace environment, it makes sense that we will work well together in a personal sense, too."

"So we're agreed? We toss the line out the widow and give this a chance?"

"We're agreed."

"Good. Now, come on, we need to get back and get changed so we're not late for dinner." He tugged on her hand, and she happily followed him back to the car.

Forty-five minutes later, they walked into a large restaurant arm-in-arm. Only a careful observer would notice the shift in their relationship. They stood slightly closer together, Brennan leaning toward Booth as he talked, and smiles seemed to be permanently plastered on their face. Additionally, the atmosphere around the partners had changed; it was less charged with sexual tension and filled with. . . something else, something indefinable.

"Tempe, Seeley, you made it!" Tasha called happily, waving them to two seats beside her. Booth gritted his teeth and planted a smile on his face as he sat down beside her. His arm slid naturally around Brennan's shoulders.

"You're an FBI agent, right?" Rick asked, leaning over to speak with Booth. Booth nodded. "You packing?" he questioned.

"I don't see how that's relevant," Booth remarked.

"Hey, I'm just trying to make conversation."

"I feel naked without my gun," Booth told him.

"So you're packing?"

Booth sighed. Obviously, the first round of drinks had come around. "Yes, I'm packing."

"Can I see?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a gun, not a showpiece." Booth felt like he was talking to his six-year-old son, Parker. The man was similarly juvenile.

"Have you ever had to use it before?"

"More than I would like."

"Are you a good shot?"

"If you don't change the topic soon, you're going to find out."

"He's an excellent shot. He was a sniper in the army," Brennan cut in. Booth shot her a pained look, telling her not to encourage the man.

"Really? Did you kill anyone?"

"What do you do for a living, Rick?" Booth inquired.

"I sell houses," Rick said, taking a swig of the beer sitting in front of him.

"That sounds exciting." Booth tried not to let the sarcasm come through in his voice. As boring as he knew the conversation would be, he was willing to talk about anything to avoid the subject of his past army experiences.

Booth managed to make it through the entire dinner without any further references to his army experiences. Brennan was still being besieged with questions about her books, and he tried to help her field them as well as possible, but he could still tell she was uncomfortable. All in all, both were relieved when the waitress brought their check. Unfortunately, before they could make a polite exit, Tasha decided they should all go to a nearby club to "blow off some steam." As usual, she refused to take no for an answer, so twenty minutes later, Booth found himself pulling into a parking space outside a dark building with loud music emanating from inside.

As they walked toward the building, Booth glanced over at Brennan and noticed the pensive expression on her face. "Something wrong, Bones?"

"I'm just remembering the last time I was in a club," she said.

Booth laughed. "Oh yeah, I remember that. If I recall correctly, you were high as a kite that night." He laughed again.

"It was inadvertent," Brennan objected.

"I know, Bones. You mean to tell me you haven't been back to a club since then?"

"Well, Angela hasn't really suggested it again, and it's not really an activity you do on your own. Since I have no other close friends except you, and this is not something we usually do together, I haven't been since that night."

"If I recall correctly, you seemed to enjoy the music," Booth remembered.

"It had a certain tribal quality that-"

Booth stopped her lips with his. "Do me a favor, Bones, and tone down the anthropology discussions a bit. I would prefer not to get into any more fights."

As soon as they entered, Booth made a beeline for the bar. He did not intend on dancing at all that night if he could avoid it. Unfortunately, Brennan seemed to have other plans. "Aren't you going to dance, Booth?" she asked as he waited on the bartended to bring his drink.

"I'm not a big dancer," he told her.

"It doesn't appear to be that hard," Brennan commented, watching the couples gyrating on the dance floor. Booth gave a non-committal grunt. As Brennan continued to watch the couples dancing, a man appeared in front of her.

"It's a crime for a pretty lady like you not to be on the dance floor," he remarked. "Would you care to join me?" Brennan considered the offer for a moment; she did want to see what it was like to be out on the dance floor and possibly learn the odd dance that many of the couples seemed to be performing. It was somewhat reminiscent of ancient tribal dances with a distinctly sexual element added, and to Brennan, it would make a fascinating study. And she had always believed that the best way to study a culture was to immerse herself in it. Since Booth refused to join her, accepting the man's offer seemed to be the best way to accomplish her goal.

She held out her hand to him, and the man smiled as he took it and led her toward the crowd. Before they moved very far, however, Brennan felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She turned to find herself face to face with Booth. "I've got this one, buddy," he said, addressing the man who had asked Brennan to dance. The other man shrugged before disappearing to find another partner.

"I thought you didn't dance, Booth," Brennan told him.

"I don't. But I'm certainly not watching some other guy grope you."

"You're being an alpha male again, Booth."

"After earlier today, I think I can be an alpha male. At least in this respect."

"Earlier today?"

"We agreed to pursue a relationship. Don't tell me you forgot already."

"Of course not. But just because we're now in a relationship does not mean I'm a possession to be fought over."

"I wasn't fighting over you, Bones. Wait." His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "Don't tell me you're going to pull that one guy for sex, one guy for conversation thing with me. Because if we're going to do this, we're going to do this right, and that means monogamy. I don't care how it sounds, Bones; you mean too much to me to share with some other random guy."

"Actually, Booth, you're probably the only man I know of with whom I would prefer monogamy," Brennan remarked thoughtfully. "Your IQ may not be as high as mine, but our conversations still challenge me intellectually because you have a much higher IQ when it comes to everyday matters. I've come to realize that there's more to intelligence than how many doctorates you have or how many facts you can recite; it's also about how well you can interact with people and read them. And that's what you're good at. As for sexual prowess, well, I guess I don't really have any firsthand experience, but your features are symmetrical and you're in good shape, so I imagine that the experience will be satisfying."

"Trust me, Bones, it will be much more than satisfying," Booth told her, leaning closer. "I'll show you what it means to make love."

A shiver of desire traveled down her spine, but she suppressed it. "Weren't we going to dance?" she inquired. Booth sighed and pulled her toward the other clubbers, placing her arms around his neck as his went to her waist. He began to move in time to the music, once again wondering what he would not do for the woman in front of him. He did not think he had danced in front of a large crowd of people since his high school prom.

"Not like this, Booth. Like that." Brennan pointed to two people who were grinding next to them, the woman pressed tightly against the man's body as she shook her hips back and forth. Booth groaned.

"Bones, that's not dancing, that's having sex fully clothed in front of an audience."

"Actually, it has some elements from-"

"Remember what I said about anthropology lessons?" he questioned.

"I'm just saying that while there is a definite sexual component to the dance, it could also be an interesting experience from an anthropological standpoint."

"Face it, Bones, you just want to grind," he said with a feral grin.

"Grind?" He indicated the couple next to them. "Oh! That's what it's called?"

"That's what it's called by the horny teenagers among whom it's so popular."

"I'm just saying that it would be a new experience."

"Fine, Bones," he acquiesced, spinning her around in front of him. "But don't expect this to become a common occurrence. I believe there are some things which should be kept in private." The song changed to a new rap song that Booth vaguely recognized, and he began to move his hips in time to the music, letting his hands drop to Brennan's own hips. At first, he managed to keep her a safe distance from his body, but as the song continued, she began to move closer to him, and he soon found himself desperately reciting hockey statistics.

He realized quickly that Brennan had no inhibitions; of course, he had expected as much. She typically threw herself into everything she did. It was one of the things which made her such a good investigator and also one of the main traits which had attracted him to her. But in this particular instance, he half-wished that she was not so unrestrained. She was taking cues from the woman next to her; when she slowly lowered her body toward the floor, Brennan mimicked her actions. Booth closed his eyes and tried desperately to think of anything but the beautiful woman in front of him who was driving him crazy. Unfortunately, he was fighting a losing battle.

Her voice cut through the haze which had settled over him. "Booth, it's a perfectly natural biological response. You don't have to try so hard to fight it," Brennan remarked as she moved back up his body. Shit, she had noticed.

"I'd really prefer not to discuss this, Bones," he told her.

"I don't understand your reticence on anything remotely sexual, Booth, especially since we've now agreed to pursue a romantic relationship which I assume will contain a sexual component," Brennan said.

"Bones?"

"Yes?" She turned to look over her shoulder at him.

"Shut up." With that, he brought his lips to hers, their hips automatically continuing to move in time to the music. His hands still rested on her hips, his thumbs tracing small circles on the bone. He knew that he was not helping his situation at all, but he truly did not care. He was simply lost in the feeling of having Brennan's lips on his own with her warm body pressed tightly against his.

When they finally separated, Booth's brain vaguely registered a change in song though it was so clouded with desire that he could not be sure. For all he knew, they could have been kissing through one thousand songs. He could not believe he was standing in a night club making out like he was a teenager again, but he would do it again in a heartbeat. "Booth?" Brennan said breathlessly. "I think I like this dancing." Booth threw back his head and laughed.

"Yeah, Bones, it's starting to grow on me, too," he agreed.

They finally removed themselves from the dance floor around an hour later and made their way to the bar. By this time, the nightclub had gained a significant number of patrons, so only one free stool remained at the bar. Booth took it, pulling Brennan into his lap. She went without objecting, turning in his lap so that she could loop her arms around his neck and lean forward to kiss him passionately. Booth returned the kiss with equal fervor, finding that the more he kissed his Bones, the more he wanted to kiss her. He simply could not get enough of her; he never wanted to separate his lips from hers again. He did not know how he had managed to survive for three years without doing this, but now that he had his chance to kiss her, he was certainly not going to waste it.

"Booth?" Brennan asked when their lips separated.

"Yeah, Bones?" Booth used the opportunity to press open-mouthed kisses against her neck, loving the feel and taste of her skin. He felt drunk though he had had very little alcohol that night. But Temperance Brennan had that effect on him; he was intoxicated by desire. It seemed once they had opened the floodgates and allowed themselves to release some of the pent-up sexual tension, it was nearly impossible to close the gates again.

"What are we doing?" she asked, her words ending in a gasp as his tongue hit a sensitive spot on her neck. Slowly, he allowed his tongue to circle the spot again, causing her to fist the fabric of his shirt.

"We're making out, Bones," he finally answered.

"I've never really done this before," she admitted. "Most of the guys I'm with just want to go straight to the bedroom."

"Just for future reference, Bones, don't talk about other guys while you're making out with someone. It kinda ruins the mood."

"What mood?"

He leaned forward and kissed her again. "That mood," he answered.

"That particular mood still seems pretty good to me." He smirked and kissed her again. "And if it helps at all, I'd say you're far superior to any other guy," Brennan added, her breath tickling his skin.

"Good." Leaning forward again, he captured her lips once more. As they continued to kiss, Brennan's hands dropped lower, eventually reaching the waistband of his pants. Slowly, they slipped beneath the fabric, caressing the smooth skin. He pulled away, smiling. "Getting a little handsy there, Bones," he remarked. She nodded, not trusting herself to form a coherent response. Already, her head was spinning so fast she could barely see straight. She did not understand what she was feeling; no man had ever affected her in this particular way before. They had not even removed any clothing, and Booth's hands had yet to move from her hip bones, but she still felt passion gnawing at her insides. Her arousal was so strong it was beginning to hurt, and she wondered how much longer she could go without release.

But Booth seemed determined to torture her. He was keeping the kisses slow and deliberate, allowing her arousal to build to an unbearable level. She moved her hands to the front of his body, tracing the well-defined abdominal muscles she found there. He removed one hand to grab hers before they could drop lower, holding them a short distance away from his body as he continued to kiss her. Unable to tease him with her hands, she brought her entire body into play, leaning forward until she had backed him into the bar.

"You know, there are private rooms in the back for this," a voice interrupted. The two separated and looked up to find Shriner watching them, bemused.

"Actually, I think we'll just go back to the hotel," Booth said. "It was nice to see you again. We should keep in touch."

"Sounds good. Have fun tonight."


	9. Chapter 9

They walked hand-in-hand to the SUV; when they reached it, Booth pressed Brennan up against it, kissing her insistently. She felt evidence of his arousal pressing into his hip, and she reached down to tease him. "You might want to keep those hands away from that particular area if you don't want this to end right here and now," Booth warned against her lips.

"What makes you think I don't?"

He pulled away quickly. "Let's get back to the hotel."

"Fine. But you started it."

Brennan knew Booth broke a couple speeding laws on the way back, but neither really noticed. They reached the hotel in record time and hurried through the lobby to the elevator. As soon as the doors slid shut behind them, Booth had Brennan pinned against a wall, his mouth devouring hers. She returned the kiss with equal intensity, pushing her tongue into his mouth and allowing it to duel with his.

Neither noticed when the doors opened; it was not until they started to slide shut again that Booth finally reacted, pulling away from Brennan long enough to press the door open button. They made it as far as the first door before locking lips again, and they continued to stumble down the hallway without separating until they reached their room. Booth fumbled in his wallet for the card key, and he slid it into the reader quickly. The light flashed red, and he cursed before flipping the card over and trying it again. This time, the light turned green, and he pushed the door open, propelling them both into the room.

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Brennan began to undo the buttons on his shirt. It was not until she reached the last one that a shred of reason forced its way to the forefront of Booth's brain. "Hey, hey, slow down, Temperance," he told her. His use of her first name indicated that their relationship had indeed shifted; at this point, they were not Booth and Brennan, two crime-fighting partners, but rather Seeley and Temperance, two people who had been denying their love for too long.

"I need you, Booth," she breathed.

"I know, and I need you, too, but I promised to show you what it means to make love."

"Later."

"No, now. You only get one first time, and I intend to make it count." He clasped her hands between his and started toward the bedroom, pulling her along with him. She went without hesitation; though she had always wanted to be in control in the past, she was willing to let Booth take the lead. She trusted him with everything.

He brought her to the bed and lay her gently on it, one hand on her lower back, the spot he had long ago staked as his own, and the other resting next to her head, supporting his weight. Slowly, gently, he lowered his lips to hers, caressing them. Brennan felt desire pooling in her stomach, and she whimpered a little into the kiss as she raised an arm to bring him closer. He complied, lowering himself slightly so that their bodies barely touched as they continued kissing.

Eventually, he brought his hand around her body, tracing the seam of her shirt before playing with the hem. As he fingered the fabric, the back of his hand would intermittently brush over the warm skin of her stomach, and she felt her desire increase with each casual touch. His light touches left trails of fire on her skin, and it took all of her self-control not to yank his clothes off. But he wanted to take it slow, and she was going to allow him to do so even if it killed her.

Eventually, he lowered his knees to the bed, supporting himself with his lower legs so that he could place one hand between her shoulders and raise her torso from the sheets. Slowly, he pulled her shirt from her body, allowing his hands to glide over the newly-exposed skin as he did so. She took the opportunity to finish removing his shirt from his body, tossing it to the side. As his hands tickled her stomach, hers traced the contours of his muscular torso, her brain automatically registering the name for each one. His lips moved down, and she felt his tongue and teeth against her neck. A moan escaped her lips as he continued his ministrations, and her hands dropped to his elaborate belt buckle.

"What did I tell you about slow?" he inquired against her skin, stopping the motion of her hands with his own. She pouted.

"I'm ready, Booth."

"Patience is a virtue. Just like Temperance." With that, he returned his lips to her skin. Slowly, he made his way downward, kissing her clavicle and moving inward to the skin in the center of her chest not covered by her bra. Her hands curled into fists in anticipation, but instead of fulfilling her expectations, he simply skipped over her bra, dropping lower to press kisses to her abdomen.

"Booth," she whimpered.

"Hmm?" His voice hummed against her skin, creating a whole host of pleasant sensations which made the desire curled in her belly roar to life.

"You missed something."

"Oh don't worry, I'll come back to that." His tongue dipped into her belly button, eliciting a small moan. Satisfied with this response, he repeated the action before languidly kissing his way back up until he reached the bottom of her bra.

"Isn't it your turn now?" she questioned.

"Tonight is all about you, Temperance. I promised you I'd show you how to make love, and I intend to do just that. I'll get my turn later." He kissed her again, and he felt his body react to the act of their lips touching. He could not believe what the woman beneath him did to him. He had never before felt so much desire for one person, had never before seen anyone so beautiful. He was finally willing to admit to himself that he, Seeley Booth, was in love with the great Dr. Temperance Brennan.

Of course, he could not share this revelation with her just yet, for he knew it would simply scare her away. Instead, he intended to show her just how he felt and hope that she could reach her own conclusion about his feelings. After all, she was a scientist. She knew how to observe and interpret data.

Afterwards, they lay together, the sweat on their bodies cooling as their heartbeats returned to normal. "Booth?" Brennan whispered after a couple minutes of silence.

"Hmm?" His hand was playing with her hair, twirling the silky locks around his finger. He pressed a small kiss to her neck.

"I think I understand what you mean by making love," she told him.

He turned to face her fully and kissed her. "Good," he remarked, pulling away. However, Brennan had other ideas. Leaning forward, she kissed him again, this time reaching down to tease him. He was suddenly at full attention, marveling at the effect she had on him.

"You know, they say that the best way to understand a subject is to fully immerse yourself in it," Brennan whispered breathlessly.

"I'm all for immersion," Booth agreed with a smirk.

"Just remember, Booth," she leaned forward to nip the cartilage of his ear, "payback's a bitch," she whispered.

They awoke later than either had intended to the previous day, but neither one truly cared. They did not have anywhere in particular to be; as long as they checked out of the hotel by 11:00, the time really did not matter. And so after a run, they agreed to shower together, an activity which resulted in more exercise for them both. They barely made the check out time, but after a late breakfast which doubled as an early lunch, they managed to be back on the road to DC by noon.

"Booth?" Brennan questioned as they drove.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Do you mind if we keep our relationship a secret for a little while? I just want some time to get used to it myself before dealing with Angela."

"You know she'll be happy for you."

"I know. And I want to tell her; after all, she is my best friend. Well, besides you, of course. But she has a tendency to overexcite. And I want to get used to this, get used to _us, _before I have her questioning to contend with."

"Whatever you want, Bones. I'll let you decide when to tell. But I would advise you to make it sooner rather than later; it's not good to keep secrets from your best friend."

"I know. And I will tell them once I get used to the idea."

"Okay." They smiled at each other.

"Booth?"

"Hmm?"

"We're still good, right? I mean, this isn't going to come in the way of our partnership or our work, is it?"

"Of course not, Bones. At work, we'll stay strictly professional. I told you before, we're the center. And the center has to hold." He paused for a moment before adding, "But when I get you home, there are no promises." She looked over at him, noting his feral grin, and shook her head. She knew he was right. They were the center, and they would hold. She could feel it in her bones.

Not that bones were capable of feeling.


End file.
